


Meeting of Equals

by MalignSensualist



Category: Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo, Hellsing
Genre: Freeform, M/M, Multi, NSFW, Other, Sexual Content, background Maxi/Valentine, m/m - Freeform, one-sided mentions of Franz/Albert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3977554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalignSensualist/pseuds/MalignSensualist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hellsing Organization receives a most peculiar request. AU/Crossover</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I: Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> There's potentially a lot of errors, this hasn't been proof read and was started on tumblr to kill some time. I figured I'd transfer bits of it to here as I finish.

The new job was unexpected - unlike jobs they usually got in. For one, it was far-removed from Britain and their traditional “hunting grounds” so to speak. The second oddity came with just who made the request. The Ministry of the Interior in Paris, France. One of the most tight lipped organizations on earth (not that all governments weren’t). Still, they hosted secrets shared with only a select few, individuals not even the Hellsing Organization had access to, much less the right to demand information from. 

Integra was still hesitating with this one. It could be a superb opportunity to network - but it could also be a pit Hellsing would never climb out of. What’s more, what was the French Interior Ministry contacting a British organization for? The two countries weren’t exactly close friends - not with their history, though unity had been a bit more on the up-side since space colonization began.

Smoke trailed from the cigar, exhaled in a plume as she pulled the stoge away, blue eyes narrowing on the digitized report before her. Something was… off about this. There were so few details, no massacres - and the Ministry didn’t seem entirely certain that it was a vampire. They didn’t seem to know what it was at all, this monster they wanted her to hunt.

“Lucien Debray… just what sort of game are you trying to play.”

He had requested a meeting, after the introduction and all of those vague details. Integra was intrigued, but wary. Hesitating on a decision.

“You’ll never get your answers if you don’t ask questions, Sir Integra Hellsing.”

The familiar husk purred from across the large office, Integra might have jumped if she were another person in another position who didn’t live in a house of veritable monsters. Instead she tapped the ash from her cigar, allowed a crooked smile to quirk lips.

“I suppose I shant. And you?”

Blue flicked up, watching the being reclined against a far wall with a dare whispered in the sarhp arch of a blonde brow. Alucard grinned at her, fangs gleaming and red eyes aglow in the shadowy corner.

“And I? Oh, revered Master, I am but your servant. Where you direct I show go. Where you walk I follow. Your enemies I shall kill.”

A sweeping bow, an arm arching out, that long, curtain of ebony hair tickling the ground. It would have been elegant were not for the mockery of form and voice. Those eyes closed, before sweeping open, peering like two infernal coals through the sweep of lash and bang. Integra mused, in a detached way, that nothing so sinister should appear so sensual.

“But even the petty servant that I am, can not deny myself the inevitable curiosity that this… opportunity has presented.”

Integra smirked, inhaled deep and long of the cigar, eyes closing meditatevly.

“Then perhaps this… curiosity should be sated. At least with precautions. Walter?”

The elder man bowed. “Yes, Sire.” And he was gone, strolling from the room in that whispy, elegant way that spoke of far more than servitude.

Integra crushed out the cigar, Alucard grinned. “Well then, it looks as though we shall be making a trip to Paris. Do inform Seras, God knows the girl likely can’t speak a word of French.”

She was left with Alucard’s cackling laughter ringing off stone walls and polished wooden floors, fingers already clicking away a correspondence with this Lucien Debray.


	2. Act II: Coffee in the City of Sin

Paris. Always busy, always flamboyant. Full of flirting couples and sauntering people and extravagence. A land of decadence and sin. Integra found it disgusting as she watched from the shadowed car window as dusk began to fall. An evening rendzevous to accomodate Alucard, an evening with Lucien Debray of the French Interior Ministry… Lips pinched upward in a humorless smile. It should prove interesting if nothing else.

As the last tang of orange faded from the sky, Sir Integra stepped from the door opened by a bowing Walter. Signature deep-green pants suit was pressed neat, coat tails ruffling only just in the breeze that touched still-crowded streets. Her destination a corner cafe, clinging to the nostalgic quaintness of bygone times with parasols and patterned masonry. She took a seat outside, far from the singular couple, a light drizzle started, thudding rhythmically atop the umbrella over her head. The wrought iron chair next to her groaned against cement as it was pulled out and Alucard folded gracefully into it. Already a grin was fighting mouth edge - and Integra wondered, not for the first time, why such a public place was requested.

“How quaint, this. It’s almot poetic, almost mysterious. Perhaps a rogue of the system, requesting the aid of outsiders in some sordid scheme.”

Alucard chuckled at his own words, seeming amused by twiddling thumbs as a server approached with no little trepidation. The vampire’s smile broadened, flashing fang and setting ruby eyes ablaze.

An order of un café crème the server was hurrying off, all the while casting the duo skeptical glances over their shoulder. Alucard chuckled again, reclined in the chair and closed his eyes. It seemed but moments - though was likely longer, as Integra sipped at the bitter drink (but no way was she going to trust a Frenchman with her tea), before their contact arrived.

He was as disturbingly flashy as the rest of this sordid city - white pants and crimson shirt and ginger hair swept around in a style more suited to a model than politician. Integra felt uneasiness. She hadn’t expected a man quite so young - and there wasn’t information available on him to check before arrival. She’d looked. Thoroughly.

The ginger-haired nightmare made a graceful dip at the waist, elegant as any bred aristocrat.

“Sir Integra Hellsing, it is quite the pleasure.” And he stood, keen eyes sliding to her right, blinking slowly, almost bemusedly. “And… escort?”

Integra smiled, raised a hand. “My… employee, Alucard.” The smile that pulled lips from teet hwas vicious and Lucien felt the first prickling cold that warned of danger where he hadn’t quite expected it. Not in such a form - even with all of the fragments of intel he managed to gather on the Hellsing Organization. She was perhaps one of the few women Lucien had encountered in his life that made his dick shrivel. Even Eugenie’s mother, with her vapors and whims and neuroses wasn’t quite so… well, off-putting.

This Alucard smiled, flashing fang and toasting his mug to the politician. Lucien felt that cold increase, standing hairs on end and setting teeth on edge. Pinned by those infernal eyes, he couldn’t help but fight the instinct screaming within every cell of his being for him to run and hide and get away.

He smiled and took his seat, ordering his own beverage and making comfortable as he worked past the dryness in his throat to actually speak. Never had he met an individual that so nearly robbed him of senses with nothing but a look.

“I must thank you for coming. I know this is rather out of your way, and out of your Jurisdiction… needless to say these circumstances are rather beyond jurisdiction as a whole. Hence this meeting, in such a place as this.”

A sip of espresso, black and bold and jolting nerves into focus from the haze that seemed to cling after this Alucard’s stare. Lucien chose to focus on those pitch depths rather than the scrutinizing gaze of his potential aid.

“This is a neutral area, I felt it… best to avoid making a scene about your coming. I would prefer as few people to know that I’ve contacted you as possible… and while I may be seen with you here, this is unofficial.”

Now he looked up, smiling and relaxing into his chair. He could do ths, no matter that those unnerving eyes were still fixed upon him like a physical weight. Integra sparked a cigar, sat back with legs crossing and nodding her chin to urge on Lucien’s speech.

“There are… events that have transpired recently which have me concerned. A couple of friends of mine have made an acquaintance upon their recent vacation to Luna.” Another sip of espresso, thoughts gathered - this needed to be succinct. “I had, my hesitations of course, because he was a stranger. However, one of these friends seems… keenly taken with him. The other has whispered to me his doubts of this… individual. In truth, I find his presence disconcerting myself, though I have met him only once - and then only afar.”

Alucard chuckled, knuckles bracing cheek as he grinned mockingly at Lucien.

“Afraid to have your dear friends swept away by the boogeyman?”

Lucien seemed to startle, Integra shot Alucard a look. The vampire grinned unrepentently.

“Well, something like that. This man isn’t human, of that I’m certain. While he does, in a sense, resemble te peoples of Janina - I am hesitant to say that is his race. He… is not human. Of this much I know, but what else I am unsure. There are no facilities in Paris which specialize in the abnormal. Indeed, most here seem quite swept away by his charisma.”

“I am not understanding why any of this has prompted you to contact a foreign organization which specializes in a very specific breed of monster, Sir Debray.”

Integra sounded almost chiding and Lucien, had to bite down a sarcastic quip. Instead he worked charm, and reason. There was little to go on, really only Franz’s mutterings and his own sense of unease.

“Indeed I have little beyond foreboding to offer you… which is why I invited you to meet me here, in Paris. Precisely where this individual resides.” He leaned forward, fingers lacing and gaze locking with Integra. “Tonight there is to be a ball, held by the Count de Morcerf. It is an annual thing, expected as he has planned to garner political allies with it. I happen to be invited, as does this individual… I happen to be of a position to extend invitations to yourself and your… employee. If you would like to observe for yourself what I lack the knowledge, or indeed the clearence to gather such knowledge as myself, to express.”

Integra sat forward, oh, now she was interested.

“What is the time for this… ball and the expected attire?”

No need to stand out due to her own somber preferences. Alucard was grinning a monster sinister grin and for but a moment she had her doubts of bringing him. But if there was any who could pin down their target it was he. 

Lucien grinned, eyes sparkling and Integra felt that foreboding change direction.

How she loathed such affairs.


	3. Act III: First Dance

It was like a Sixth Sense, this awareness, this knowing - or perhaps it was sheer pessimism. He was always rather hesitant to divine precisely what told him when something was about to go spectacularly wrong. This wasn’t a time he hesitate, it wasn’t even a time he’d asked. The knowledge had merely manifested itself, a little whisper in his mind, in his own voice, speaking things to him that he knew without that slivering scraps of human conscious quite realizing it.

‘Something is here. Something dark and powerful and old. Something older than I - more malevolent than I. It reeks of death and rot and savagery. How divine. How curious.’

And yet what he did not know, knew only that it was rather disconcerting to wake from the barest hours of sleep with such knowledge swimming in his mind. The Count of Monte Cristo did not know what had come to Paris, merely that something had and that it left a shiver in him down to the ephemeral other that suffused the him so thoroughly there was nary a line to differentiate them anymore.

The Count sighed, pinching nose between index finger and thumb to ward the oncoming headache. The rocking lull of his mechanica carriage slowing drew gaze to the window - to the grand entrance stair to Count de Morcerf’s estate and the luxuriously dressed fools milling about the front. And there, at the top, Albert, perhaps the biggest fool of them all. So innocent. So naive. The bitter tang of lost “what-if’s” burned his tongue, would have turned stomach had he ever an appetite to put off. 

At last they stopped and the Count stepped out, as ever drawing the eyes of the crows to the sparkling extravagance of his attire. Tonight’s ensemble a pattern of black and midnight and indigo that sparkled beneath lamps like starlight in a galaxy. A deep indigo and pale pink cravat softened the crisp whiteness of blouse. White gloved fingers touched the brim of tophat, dipping chin to passing ladies and gentlement, hiding the sneer that threatened to twist his pleasant face into something more honest. Midnight hair danced behind him, a perfect match to the dark of his attire. An oddly complimentary match to the midnight of Haydée‘s own hair as she stepped from the carriage behind him.

As ever she was resplendent, fair skin offset by rose colored gown beset with rubies and topaz - sparkling like fire around her ivory skin. Together they glided up the entrance, like the guests of honor and the Count reveled in silent amusement at their foolishness.

“Count!”

Albert’s exclamation drew eyes, of course. The Count smiled as he handed off cane, hat and cloak to the footman, a bit of indulgence in the expression. However did the boy make it through a day, if he was this surprised at the Count’s presence at a ball he was invited to? Still, he took the boy’s hand with good grace, smiling through the expected exchange of pleasantries. He allowed himself to be tugged into the room, nodding along with Albert’s monologue after gesturing Haydée off to do as she pleased.

“… and you won’t believe who he’s brought with him! Some guests from Britain I hear.”

Guests? Bi-colored eyes turned once again to Albert, fixing with keen scrutiny. Guests from out of country. Could it be mere coincidence? He almost laughed at his own musing. Coincidences were not things he believed in. Meetings, events - they had purpose, they were initiated. Coincidence was an excuse of the weak.

“They sound quite pleasant, perhaps we could mee these guests of Monsieur Debray’s?”

Albert almost stumbled but caught himself with a sheepish grin and a nod. The Count politely extricated his arm from the exuberant youth and gestured him lead way - and lead Albert did, until the tell-tale ginger of Lucien’s head came in view.

“Lucien!”

Said man turned, quite obviously exasperated with Albert’s antics, and very nearly lost the smile on his face at the sight of who followed his friend. Next to him, he felt Sir Integra tense, and sat smug on the knowledge that she’d quite obviously realized something was off.

“Albert… Count.”

Lucien offered a polite dip of head and handshake, which the count returned with equal levity. That done, and deftly ignoring the proudly grinning Albert, Lucien gestured to Integra with one hand.

“Count, allow me to introduce you to a friend of mine visiting Paris. Mademoiselle Integra Wingate.”

The Count didn’t miss Integra’s very dry, almost scathing look at Lucien. He also did not miss the almost teasing lilt to the address, as though it would somehow ruffle the Lady. Regardless he bowed, taking the proferred hand and planting a very brief kiss atop gloved knuckles.

“A pleasure it is to meet you, I am known as the Count of Monte Cristo.” 

Odd eyes flicked up, peering into the too-serious, too-guarded depths of blue and the Count found himself almost smiling at this prickly lady. She smiled back, tight and uniform as a military officer - and he had but a moment to wonder if she was just that before she addressed them all in clipped, no-nonsense words.

“A please, Gentlemen. I have to admit I wasn’t quite expecting such a… multitude of acquaintances.”

Again that scathing look shot at Lucien, who grinned unrepentently. The Count chuckled and Integra felt all her hairs stand on in. She hadn’t understood before, but she did now. This man, this creature, he certainly was no vampire - but he was most certainly not human either. Those too-smooth smiles, the easy tone, that elegance. It spoke of something preternatural, though not so pronounced as to be noticed by any average human. Sir Integra Wingate Hellsing, however, was not the average homosapien and was quite aware it wasn’t natural. Neither was that startling cold of lips that should have been warm brushing the soft silk of her glove.

Yes, there was too much ease, too much charisma, the smiles too polished, too easy. In this world of back-stabbing politicians and greedy aristocrats, such a man should shine with the naive stupidity of the young Alber de Morcerf. Yet this Count of Monte Cristo did not.

“Lucien? I thought there was another guest…”

Lucien waved off Albert’s question and Integra blinked away her thoughts, in time to catch curious bi-colored eyes dance away as though they’d never been.

“Wandered off somewhere.”

The Count narrowed questioning eyes on the ginger’s flippant reply, but took a step back himself before Albert could latch onto him for the entire evening. As entertaining as the little fool was, he had little patience for such antics tonight. Not with Gankutsuou stirring so near the surface, not when they felt like a writihing mass of anticipation inside.

“I am sorry to make such a hasty departure, but there are a few acquaintences of my own here I would like to greet.”

A graceful, sweeping bow and another charming smile and the Count was gone, weaving through the crowd as easily as a midnight fog. Albert made to follow him, but Lucien’s hand on his shoulder stopped the boy short.

“Franz was looking for your earlier, Albert. I think he headed for the billiard room with Eugenie and Maximilian.”

Albert perked up immediately and Lucien sat firmly on the urge to sigh in relief as the troublesome kid hurried off after his little posse. 

Integra watched the boy skip off, turned shadowed eyes to Lucien with only the barest hesitations.

“I understand your concerns. Let us see how the night plays out. After all, Alucard will find him, if indeed he is unnatural as we suspect.”

* * * * *

The hum of awareness was worsening, prickling at icy skin like little ants attempting to claw free. The Count played his part, despite the unusally briefness of his greetings - waved away with the excuse of chronic headaches plaguging him that very moment. Oh, but if only he had a quiet corner to step away for a moment, he could do them the honor of a dance and be so much less a tactless brute.

They were only too happy to oblige, and he found himself stood on a balcony. It was not overly large, a cubby of reprieve from guests he would suspect, placed for that very reason. The chill night air did wonders, and yet he could not shake the anticpiation from limbs jumping for… something.

For that unknown, intoxication presence he’d felt in a dream, like a phantom caress.

Eyes closed, the Count allowed the throbbing pain behind his eyes to calm, felt the gentle caress of moonlight and nearly sighed out in rapture. Yes, perhaps he could face the rest of the night in good form - if only he could evade too much exuberance. It was always a bad idea to play guessing games with the sudden attacks of pain. Drawing in another breath, the Count turned and very nearly struck out when shadows shifted.

A moment later and breath caught in throat, the movement into a brawling stance rendered impotent. Before him stood perhaps the most baffling being he’d ever seen… no, they’d ever seen. Gankotsuou stirred, as those shadows bowed and the lines of silk so dark it seemed to eat the very light spilling from behind the man. It clung to that willowy form that existed in paradox to the near strangling aura of power. Infernal eyes glimmered up from beneath ebony fringe, and he grinned a Cheshire’s grin before rising from that graceful arch of a bow.

The Count found himself bowing back, hand tucked to chest and the other arching forward.

“Monsieur, I almost did not see you there. I apologize for the rudeness of my reaction.”

The shadow chuckled, a deep baritone rumble that rocked the Count where he stood.

“Such honeyed words, come now, no need for pretenses here.”

Long arms swept out, fluttering a cloak never surrendered to incompetent footmen, like a crimson waterfall. A wonderful counterpart to the singular crimson necktie at the shadow’s throat.

“I am Alucard, and I apologize for the suprrise.”

The grin said he was anything but. The Count felt something shift, something click at that inciting tone. So mocking and derisive - a dare they snapped to rise to. He smiled instead, genial and extended a gloved hand. Alucard seemed almost surprised.

“I’m sure you’ve heard rumor, Monsieur Alucard. I am the Count of Monte Cristo.”

Alucard grinned, took a step forward and to one side, head canting as he observed this most intriguing of individuals.

“Quite a presumptuous statement you make, Monsieur Count. I can understand why, all pomp and show.” Long fingers curled about a lock of midnight hair, a tug as Alucard seemed to glide about the Count, chuckling again - inciting that urge to retaliate again. “And with such looks, it is a wonder you find yourself out alone in the night air.”

Breath, cold as death against the shell of one ear and Alucard was craned over one shoulder, ebony hair spilling across the auroral patterned suit.

“You should be wary of monsters in the night, sweet Count.”

Alucard choked on his own grin when the Count threw his head back for a cackling laugh that sent waves of dark hair bouncing almost weightlessly. He was frozen in place, gaze locked onthe profile of that odd blue face, on the outline of sharp fangs between parted lips and the sheer humor in that laugh. A bitter, cold humor that caressed the darkness around them, within them. Alucard shuddered, lids drooping low as the cackling died down and that bi-colored gaze rested upon him.

“It is not monsters whom we should fear in this world, Monsieur Alucard. Monsters seek to destroy and ravage without thought, without care. Chaos. It is almost beautiful…” Gaze drifted off, white clad fingers touching his own forehead and the Count sighed almost wistfully. “The real monsters live in the hearts of mean.”

Alucard found himself without a snappy reply to that. Found himself intrigued as he stepped around this Count of Monte Cristo, with a silent flutter of cloak like batwings. 

“Such things to say - when mortals cower so from the demons waiting to devour them in the night.” Another step forward, and noses almost touched and they could look nowhere but to each other. “Tell me you have no fear of such atrocity.” A bare whisper, and ruby eyes glimmered with the thirst of his inquiry.

The Count almost whispered an answer, almost fell into the intimacy incited by that stare, by the intoxicating darkness hovering like a miasma between them, and by the power permeating every breath of this Alucard.

He took a proprietary step back instead, head canting, hair dancing and smile almost pitying.

“Monsieur Alucard, what scandalous things you say, after making such ado about pretending.” He waggled one finger in a tut-tut motion at the vampire. “What use would such imprecations be?”

Alucard followed a step forward, black gloved hand wrapping around offending white. He felt a thirst so akin and yet not like bloodlust, a thirst woken by pretty words and unexpected reactions.

“How true, sweet Count, then let us not stand on ceremony and pretty words.” A vicious tug and Alucard grinned a the feel of that death chilled body pressed against his own. “To what do I owe the pleasure of such encounter? For in so long I have not come across one such as you. Not vampire, not mortal, not alien, not despicable half-breed. Who is the Count of Monte Cristo?”

The strength in that too-thin body was almost alarming, would have been moment for pause - if they weren’t humming in literal delight. A match. An equal. A being who could play on the same field - could understand the loathing and the love of such existence. He was speaking before he quite realized.

“We are Gankutsuou, and the Count of Monte Cristo. We are one, and separate.”

Alucard blinked again, slow, thoughtful. “Gankutsuou…”

The Count nodded, and they wondered at the expression of remembering, of sifting through a memory longer than mortals could conceive of.

“And to whom do we owe the pleasure of being brutishly manhandled?”

Alucard barked a sharp laugh, released the hand he held and stepped back for another sweeping bow.

“Alucard, former Count Dracul, Vampire King.”

And he cackled, unable to swallow the irony and derision in his own words. Infernal gaze was dancing in half-disgusted mirth as he righted himself, broad grin revealing every glimmering fang in his skull.

“My, sweet Gankutsuou, don’t look so surprised.”

Yet how could he not? When before him stood a being older than he, a being history whispered of in the most frightened, hateful, and awed tones as legend and lore and myth. It could not be denied this vampire spoke the truth, this Alucard - the King of England’s plague of blood-suckers. He chuckled, head shake sending tresses dancing.

“How could I be anything but? When such a being stands before me.”

Hands raised, palms up, and eyes closed in an almost exasperated expression as the Count sighed out resignation. Dropping hands and taking a step back, to the side, circling that potent pressence.

“What, I do wonder, has brought the Vampire King to humble Paris?”

Alucard cackled, an almost malevolent grin upon his lips.

“Mysterious macchinations indeed, and whispers of a malevolent presence here. Yet here I find you, not at all so very malevolent as I expected. Certainly not as violent.”

The vampire gestured, ruby eyes flicking to the Heavens as though asking why such burdens were placed upon him. The Count offered a dubious expression, not without humor.

“How rude of me, to have disappointed, Monsieur so.”

The dry tone had Alucard cackling harder - and perhaps their good spirited dialogue would have continued, certainly the Count was wondering just what the vampire planned to say when those smirking lips parted.

“Master!”

Two sets of eyes turned upon the intruder and Alucard frowned at her as she stumbled onto the balcony looking ridiculously relieved. He wondered when she would take heart in what he tried to teach her.

“Policegirl, I should think you would be aware enough of where I am not to come blundering like a lost child.”

Her chagrined expression did little to curb his annoyance at being disturbed.

“I’m sorry, Master. It’s just that, well, people are looking for you both… I mean, if you are the Count of Monte Cristo, Sir.”

Her head dipped lips curling up sheepishly, flashing fang as naively as a toddling child. Alucard sighed.

“Then we mustn’t keep them waiting, I am sure our hosts would be most displeased should their guests cause such disturbance.”

The Count smoothly walked over whatever scathing jab Alucard had aimed at annoying little pests and mortals and whatever else. The vampire sighed once again, Seras looked confusedly between the two men with no little surprise. Alucard smirked a second later and the girl blanched before quickly excusing herself.

“Well, if we must return to the clutches of mortals. I say it should be done with style.”

The Count hesitated at the maniacal grin on Alucard’s face, brows furrowing in skepticisim. Though he hadn’t time to form a question before the vampire was before him, silent as a wraith and bowing low like a black swan, one upturned palm held in offering. The Count found himself trapped in the sultry, mocking hold of those eyes.

“A dance, Monsieur Gankutsuou? I promise to be a most… decorous partner.”

That sly grin was almost hidden in shadows, yet he found himself unbothered by it. Allowing the barest quirk of a smile himself, the Count took that hand primly.

“Well then, Monsieur Dracul, lead on.” 

In a flourish of starry night and shadow the two men turned, and poised as any emperor, Alucard stepped them on to the nearly stunned speechless dance floor. The string quartet and pianist hadn’t slowed their upbeat waltz, but whispers erupted like a burbling fountain as the two men met in traditional pose on the floor. The golden light of candleabras and chandelier twinkled on high-polished tile floors, shimmered across the cosmic sheen of the Count, swallowed by the depthless ebony of his nameless partner.

The downtempo came and the two men stepped, black hair tied with crimson ribbon, and loose midnight curls spunabout the two as Alucard led in an almost floatingly graceful waltz. Other couples joined, brushed close by in attempt to catch snippets of whispered conversation, for what else could such a display be, but scandal of the most intimate nature? Yet not a word passed between paraffin and azure lips.

Cameras flashed, a stunned Beauchamp tucking once more behind a pillar when Albert’s scandalized sqawk rent the air. From on high, Count and Countess de Morcerf watched with expressions of confusion and disbelief. Not that such things were disallowed in society, but to be so openly flaunted was simiply not done. Not within the ranks of the aristocracy.

“The scandal will be a thing of beauty.” Alucard sighed, almost lustily.

“I rather think they’ll not leave it be until something truly nefarious comes to light.” The Count countered drily.

“True. Perhaps we’ll just have to offer them something worse, sweet Gankutsuou?” The vampire purred, crimson eyes flashing.

The smile that turned those dusky lips was slow and sensual and so wonderfully malevolent, Alucard felt a tingle in his spine.

“Oh, do not worry of that, Monsieur Alucard. There will be a great deal many things to… divert their attention.” Bi-colored eyes skittered away, picking something out of the crowd before turning back, glittering at Alucard like polished jewels beneath navy lashes. “Perhaps it would amuse you to join us in our… entertainment?”

Alucard grinned. He was a servant of Hellsing, a monster to fight monsters… a vampire to kill vampires. Gankutsuou was no vampire, was nothing such as the Hellsing organization had faced before. The vampire leaned close, the head of height he had on the Count’s already impressive height making all the difference as ebony spilled down one side, obscuring whispers from curious eyes.

“Oh, sweet Count, you shouldn’t offer such tempting entreties to a devil.”

The Count chuckled, head turning, until forehead rested almost against one silk-clad shoulder. Might as well give the thirsty mobs of gossipmongers something to truly gasp about.

“Then I trust it is an offering such a devil cannot decline?” 

Fangs dropped from gums, and Alucard chuckled atop the shudder of desire that purring baritone whispered to him, sinful entreaties of chaotic rapture. Such things he had sworn off long ago, when he became little more than a dog to serve as humanity’s sword against monsters. And yet…

Feral red light glimmered in shadowed eyes, casting indigo shadows across that azure skin. Alucard smiled, and elongated fangs nippd at the stretched skin of his bottom lip.

“However could I deny thee, sweet Ganktusuou, when you make such delicious offers?”

The Count smirked, bi-colored eyes lit with the darkness of other and they stepped apart, malevolent expressions calming into polite facade as the last, long note of the waltz end rang through the room. A graceful dip at the waist and they turned, fading into a crowd that seemed undecided weather to push away or clamor closer.


	4. Act IV: Scandal

Nothing good could come of this situation, nothing at all. Integra had held her self-control behind clenched teeth and an iron resolve when Alucard came sauntering to room with the Count at his side. It took every minute of training she’d received as an aristocrat to leash the snarl and hold placid as her sword, cavorting with the enemy.

Even now, with the sun in the sky and Alucard stuffed into his coffin for slumber, Integra found her thoughts whirling. Of course, Alucard always had a way of flirting with his prey - taunting them, antagonizing them and delighting so thoroughly in it. The thrill of the chase, he rapture of death. She could understand that, allow that - because he always completed the job without fail. Always. So why now, should she be uncertain of his motives? Why should dancing with a target they knew nothing of the origins of inspire such uncertainty that Alucard would complete his mission this time? 

There was no reason, nothing in Alucard’s behavior had been more abnormal than it ever was. She should not be this incensed by a minor irritant - unlike the garish blot of ginger and red that plopped in a chair across from her.

Integra pulled the cigar from her lips, plume of smoke filling the air and glasses flashing in time with blue eyes.

“Mister Debray, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Lucien smiled without humor, crossed his legs and laced fingers atop one knee. He was the picture of arrogant nonchalance - tacky. Integra waiting patiently, watched shadowed thoughts shift in those eyes. She hated politicians.

“Sir Integra, I must express my concern over your employee’s seeming… interest at last night’s ball.”

He tugged a newspaper from his coat and dropped it atop her temporary desk. Integra almost swallowed her cigar. One hand slammed down atop the paper, drug it near her so she could read the headline and more closely peer at the photograph contained within. Oh God. They were supposed to be laying low. Alucard’s face, twisted into an almost feral leer, dancing with another man in his arms on the front page of the Paris paper was not laying low. She closed her eyes, counted backwards from fifty. The title was perhaps worse than the photo itself - and that was bad enough. For all intents and purposes, the two looked completely enraptured in the other.

“Mystery Man Leads Count of Monte Cristo in Waltz: A Scandal or A Romance?”

The disgust in the Hellsing Director’s voice as she read aloud had Lucien cringing.

“The article itself is even worse. You’re lucky there aren’t more photos other than a few of them dancing. Hence my need for concern. Who is this employee? Why would he approach a potential target for your… organization in such a way?”

Integra had to admit she was impressed, as she sparked up a new smoke. She was beginning to doubt the capability of this Lucien Debray, but that sharp-edged look in his eye, yes it was a look she knew well. Integra smiled, cast a glance to one far door in the hotel suite.

“How would you kill a monster, Mister Debray?”

She asked casually, Lucien blinked, uncertain.

“Are there not various ways? Such as staking a vampire through the heart?”

Integra’s smile was vicious, and Lucien had another moment to wonder - again - what and why he was working with this woman. He knew of course, but everyone was allowed their doubts.

“You could try, for ghouls spawned by a feeding vampire it would perhaps even work. However, you could ram a stake through the heart of a real vampire all you like. The results would be equally a waste of time.” She inhaled deeply of delicious smoke, sat back in her chair and allowed gaze to linger on the window, lost in memory as she spoke. “The only way to kill a monster is with a monster, Mister Debray. The Hellsing Organization is not the European leader in vampiric extermination because we have knowledgable humans. No. Humans die too easily, you see? What we have is our very own monster.” Lips curled and wrath lit blue eyes like fire. “A vampire unlike any you will ever see. Alucard. Can you make a guess, Mister Debray? Surely the Interioror Ministry has a veritable fount of information on things presumed to be myth or legend.”

She glanced at him side-long and Lucien felt ice in his veins at the amused challenge in those eyes. Surely it took someone like this to command this monster she spoke so candidly of. He swallowed and smiled.

“I’m sure, but such areas are not my expertise. Although I wonder what I would find on this Alucard were I to look.”

Integra chuckled. “Likely more than you would care to know.”

Lucien silently agreed. “So the reason for last night?”

Integra shrugged. “HIs hunt, his game. Usually it’s a bit more violent than a dance, however, it is unlikely either of us would be given a thorough answer.”

Lucien sighed but nodded his understanding.

* * * * *

He hadn’t slept last night after the ball, there wasn’t much reason beyond circling thoughts. The evening was going well, he and Eugenie and Franz were all laughing and talking like they had as children - before the awkwardness of puberty and political engagements. Valentine and Maximilian were tucked away, in their own little whispering world and Franz kept shooting Albert significant looks about it. Everything was nice, until that near-defeaning silence which drew them like flame to a moth.

Albert expected any number of scenarios given the crowd gathered in his home tonight. Politics and socialites didn’t make for a good mix with liquor and confined space. What he found instead felt like a punch to the gut, though he couldn’t quite place why. 

There, in the center of the ballroom was the Count, tucked into the arms of that stranger Albert had never seen before - but who had a prickle of fear running down his spine. He didn’t particularly have anything against such things, after all he’d been shocked about Peppo but not… disgusted. This felt like a rattle beneath his feet, of the Earth quaking and shifting in a way he hadn’t quite expected. Hadn’t thought to ponder. Why should he? He admired the Count, looked up to him, considered him a friend even after so brief an acquaintence. Yet somehow he felt… shaken by watching that dance that seemed so intimate and yet was no more improper than any other couple on the floor, save by the scandal of their gender.

Perhaps it was just the shock. After all, he’d only ever seen the man behave intimately once before and that… was not exactly a proper scenario. The tryst with Héloïse de Villefort in her greenhouse the week prior. Of course there were also the rumors on the nature of his relationship with Haydée, but Albert wasn’t quite sure if he beleved there was anything… well, sexual about that.

The teen rolled over in his bed, cramming his face into the pillow with a discontented grunt. A sharp prod against his side had Albert jerking up to glare scathingly at Franz.

“Stop moping, Albert. What are you so bothered by? Still stuck on the Count?”

Franz sounded exasperated and half-annoyed by Albert’s fixation with the man and Albert felt heat rise in his face as he looked away with a scowl.

“I don’t know why it bothers me but it does. I think it was that other guy…”

Albert shuddered and frowned, casting a look at his lifelong friend.

“That man with the Count… I don’t like him. Something felt wrong about him. Alucard, I think is what Lucien said his name was.”

Albert hesitated but Franz was nodded, eyes narrowed across the room.

“Yeah something is definitely up with that guy… he didn’t seem… human.” A beat of silence. “But you know I have reservations about the Count as well. I don’t think either of them are people to trust, Albert.”

A snarl from his friend had the blond biting his tongue in frustration. Why wouldn’t Albert listen to him about this? Why did he persist in chasing after a crook with all the willful blindness of a fool? Franz sighed.

“I know you don’t like or believe it… I just wish you would be a bit more cautious around him, if you must be around him at all.”

Albert grunted his acknowledgement but otherwise allowed the topic to drop. Franz shook his head at the other teen, weary from the constant urgings for Albert to think with his head rather than his heart.

* * * * *

Throughout the day, messengers scurried about Paris, delivering matte indigo envelopes bearing invitations to a certain event at a recently purchased Auteuil Villa in Boulogne for the Danglars, Villeforts, Morcerfs and friends.

At the same time a single courier was epositing a rather extravagent bouquet of deep blue, almost indigo roses at the front door of a 30 Champs-Elysees, into the perplexed arms of Bertuccio. The boquet came with a small, ebony envelope bearing the Count’s name in golen ink.


	5. Act V: Subconscious Desire

Sweet Gankutsuou,  
One should take pains to include some romantic nonsense with such a gift, I’m sure. However, I’m also certain you will pardon my lacking prosaic abilities. So I send you roses, for that most unattainable of feats, that two equals should meet by coincidence.

I’m sure the irony tastes as sweet as the blood I smelt so cold in your veins.  
Alucard

The small, black square of parchment tumbled gracefully between long fingers, gold ink glinting sharply in the dim candlelight of the room. He’d read it several times now, absorbed the implications behind Alucard’s statement of coincidence. With a sigh he set the note aside, turning to the boquet of delicate roses next to his stone-slab of a bed.

An amusing choice of color. 

Claw-like nails caressed one fragile petal, before he plucked the rose from his vase, rolling to his back and inhaling the decadent fragrance of the bloom. Lashes fluttered as he basked in the perfume, twirled the rose between forefinger and thumb, watching shadows dance across the ceiling almsot absently. Such a strange being, this Alucard, this Count Dracul. The Count shuddered, at the purring desire for that deliciously malevolent presence. He had to wonder how every human in the Morcerf estate hadn’t fled in fright, but perhaps that was Alucard’s doing. Was it so much a leap to imagine he could control his own aura in such a way?

The very idea of such a creature had mind wandering, musing down paths long untouched - stoked an ember of heat somewhere in the depths of cold.

An equal indeed. A match. A being they could throw their worst at and whom would still walk away from it. The Count grinned, chuckled as he sat up, indulging a final inhale of the rose before slipping away from respite to prepare for the coming evening’s festivities.

* * * * *

From her seat in Lucien’s carriage, Integra watched the gloomy forest pass them by at some speed. Such a depressing place for a party, even a small one. These nobles and their parties, only three days ago was the Morcerf ball and now… this. Still, she couldn’t shake the foreboding that lingered since Lucien appeared in the door of her suite bearing invitations to herself and Alucard.

Apparently the Count sent a request for Lucien to pass along an invitation to his “friends”.

Alucard was amused, displaying high spirits since learning of the invitation. Now he sat across from her, dressed in a pressed suit and red neck-tie. Nothing out of the ordinary to his normal wear beyond the exhange of boots.

“Ah, looks as though we’re here.” Lucien chirped.

“And with such delightful ambiance.” Alucard sang with a chuckle as he slipped from the carriage behind the ginger. 

“Indeed. If one is bent for the macabre.” Integra added as she dusted at her pants-suit and following the other two toward the villa’s entrance. Alucard breathed in deeply next to her, eyes flashing crimson.

“Such a detestable place, this. Perfect.”

She might have missed the whisper for how quietly it was spoken and Integra felt that prickle of uncertainty rear again.

* * * * *

Albert sipped at the water provided on tables, eyes flickering across the few people already present. Beauchamp, the Villefort family, the Danglars, Franz, his own parents and Maximilian. The Count was speaking quietly with one of the ever-present escorts, Albert thought his name was Bertuccio. What were they waiting for?

Franz nudged him, and Albert found brows arched high in question. He offered a grin and a shrug.

“Just wondering what everyone is waiting around for.”

“Ah, probably Lucien. If Beauchamp managed an invitation, he certainly did.”

Franz’s comment was offhand, but Albert grimaced at who Lucien was likely to bring with him. Arms crossed and he shoved back into the chair with a soft huff that had Franz rolling his eyes. A few more minutes of restless shifting and he Viscount was up and roaming across the room, hesitating only the barest bit as he neared the Count. He still felt rather self-conscious about accidentally peeping on the Count and Countess Villefort… perhaps even more so about the prickling envy that kept him up all night after the ball.

“Count.”

Bi-colored eyes turned to him with polite question, one hand waving Bertuccio away.

“Albert, you seem quite bored with the evening.” A quirk of lips. “My apologies to be such a poor host, but we are awaiting the arrival of some… stragglers.”

Albert could have sworn he heard a note of discontent and perked up a bit.

“Oh don’t worry, please, I’m just not so great at sitting still like this. I mean, it’s just a bit tense this evening.”

Blue eyes turned to Valentine even as the guilt-ridden words left his mouth. A moment later and Albert flushed, scratching at the back of his head sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to blab about such things.”

Again the Count waved off the boy’s chatter before standing.

“I’m sure they should be here soon, so perhaps we should call everyone together. I do have a most entertaining surprise for everyone this evening.”

Albert felt his cheeks heat at the crooked smirk the Count offered, the conspiratorial whisper and glimmer in those eyes. He felt… special with such an admission, privy to something none of the others knew. A moment later and he grinned with a nod of his own as the Count whisked by to urge Eugenie into a performance. Not that he had to prod her too hard, the girl was more than happy to display her skill.

Lofty feelings came crashing down hard not four notes into Eugenie’s song when the far door opened and Lucien slipped in, with his friends trailing behind. The tall stranger, Alucard, hovered at the back of the little group for a moment and Albert almost struggled to pick him out from the shadows he suited so well.

The man lingered for only a moment, and Albert knew the moment those unnatural eyes found the Count, for they lit with hellfire and he was stepping free of that darkness. The teen felt no small measure of envy for the preternatural grace of this Alucard, nor for his height. Such a stature was ridiculous, he topped even Maximilian, and aside from his own father, Albert knew of no other so tall.

He forced himself to turn away, to have a seat next to Franz who gave him a look that was almost pitying, if not irritated.

* * * * *

His arrival was obvious without looking, the very air seemed heavier somehow and Gankutsuou very nearly purred at the combined weight of despair trapped within this damned villa and the taint of vampire. It was perhaps the first time all evening he hadn’t had to fight he urge to wrap a hand around a neck and squeeze until all the air stopped flowing and eyes buldged from sockets and blood ruptured through fragile little mortal vessels.

The Count blinked back a shudder, turned and swept arms open in a greeting that was more sincerely cheerful than any other all evening.

“Welcome and good evening, I hope your trip was not too taxing?”

“Not at all, Monsieur.” Lucien answered with a polite bow.

Handshakes were left out of the equation as Integra stopped just behind Lucien’s shoulder, keen eyes sweeping the room and faces. Alucard loomed just behind, seeming to mock with little more than a look. The Count tugged his attention from the vampire, ignoring the knowing glint in Debray’s eyes and gesturing his guests along.

“I do not mean to rush, but I have something quite exciting planned for the evening. I would so hate to keep you all here too late, it would be a most uncomfortable experience I am sure.”

A genial smile that Lucien returned with some restraint. Integra didn’t bother with such nicities tonight, she was in no mood to play games with the trash.  
Alucard followed along behind, still grinning crookedly. The barest brush of icy fingertips against his wrist had gaze sliding to the Count for but a moment before he chuckled and stretched out upon the chaise.

How he hoped tonight would be as fun as Gankutsuou’s eyes promised.


	6. Act VI: Macabre Games

The trap was set and baited, the hounds let loose on the hare’s scent. Now all that remained was to wait while the pawns moved through their respective places in this mockery of a Labryinth he’d re-designed for precisely this little game. Andrea Cavalcanti was introduced, the new-old player, and Albert, the unsuspecting fool, led the marked duo of the evening to their Minotaur.

It would have been endlessly amusing were the whole affair not building a throb of irritation behind eyes. A dull ache of migraine and anger and Gankutsuou shuffling impatiently for the kill. For all they were one, the human had much more patience than the entity.

The rustle of expensive fabric, the scent of perfume and a small thump and the Count almost, almost ran then and there.

“At last, we can speak just the two of us.”

A girlish giggle and the pain building at his temple throbbed with an almighty vengeance. A snarl swallowed as he peaked open, hoping for a hallucination rather than a reality. Idiot woman. Was she really making advances? He sighed, head dipping and voice as flat as his pulse.

“If you will excuse me, I am feeling a bit peaked.”

And up and away, and perhaps it was still fleeing but it was far more dignified than the almost desperate scramble muscles almost leapt into. Not everyone left to explore, of course the three marked men left, and Mademoiselle Danglars - and surprisingly MAdemoiselle Integra. The lady left the Count uneasy, for all she assumed the role of an aristocratic lady, that cold keenness in her eyes was quite unlike even the sharpest politician. 

The only body not accounted for was Alucard, and perhaps even the vampire slipped off to do his own exploring. Although the Count rather doubted he would use the conventional means of humans. A small smile quirked lips as the stepped out into the cool night air, though he felt none of the chill, the crisp scent of lingering moisture told him the night was mild. He shifted along the stone path of a courtyard silently, another shadow to join the trees and shrubs. Already he felt calmer, beneath the moon and stars, away from the urge to murder.

Death would be too easy, an escape and a refuge he wouldn’t allow the likes of them. Not until they’d begged and wept and lost their mind with the sheer horror of the life that was now theirs.

The smile now was vicious in the moonlight, bi-colored eyes glowing like lamps at the very-pleasing musing. It was perhaps amusing that he found the vampire here, reclined on a stone bench, eyes fixed upon the upper windows of the villa, as though he could see through stone. Who knew, perhaps he could at that. The Count felt that prickle of anticipation as he neared Alucard, felt mischief spark where irritation had lurked.

Quiet as a wraith Gankutsuou slipped behind the vampire, icy fingertips snaking along jaw as equally cold lips brushed the shell of one ear. Senses whirled with the vampire’s smell, shuddered though voice remained smooth, if low.

“My, my, what a way to be caught. So unawares.” The Count leaned forward, eyes fluttered half-mast, cold cheeks brushing before curled lips trailed down the side of Alucard’s throat. “The things I could have done, even to one such as you, while so unsuspecting.”

He felt the vampire grin, felt long, iron-like fingers brushing against cheek and curl into midnight curls. Alucard chuckled, low and mocking.

“Do you truly think I could not hear your heart flutter from the parlor? I see every warm drop of blood on these grounds. I hear their hearts, beating so frantic, fragile as the flutter of moth wings.”

The grin was hungry, eyes aglow and Gankutsuou pressed closer over the back of the bench. 

“Oh? Here I thought my little game would have you lingering in the shadows, watching them scurry around as vermin for food.”

The tone was mock disappointment and Alucard laughed again, head dropping back to the Count’s shoulder and lips twiting up thoughfully.

“I must admit, your macabre sensebilities have me fascinated, sweet Gankutsuou. Perhaps we could indulge a look-see on your little mice.”

Alucard shifted, turning even as he stood, catching one of those white gloved hands before it could drop away. A tug and they stood chest against chest, a breath later and there was darkness. Living shadow twisting, inhaled and exhaled and Alucard tugged again on that hand, guided the Count from darkness that blinked back at them to the shadow of a sharp corner.

In the villa courtyard Maximilian and Valentine stood pale faced and shivering, clutching each other behind the tree they’d used as cover for their eavesdropping. The soldier swallowed past the dry lump in his throat, and laughed, forced and shaken and unsure what to think. Valentines smile was tremulous, lavender eyes speaking of a shared, unspoken wish to forget the fruits of their curiosity. 

“Perhaps we had too much to drink.” Valentine ventured.

“Yes, yes perhaps we did.” Maximilian conceded.

Both forcefully did not think about the only beverages provided this evening being water. 

* * * * *

Their fear was delicious, exotic - and endlessly amusing. Alucard wondered at it’s true source, for surely non could fear a house without just cause. Fingers wrapped in those luscious curls, tugged once, sharply.

“To what do we owe the amusement of their discomposure?”

Gankutsuou smiled from his side, leaning into the touch, odd eyes flicking upward to trap crimson in their frightful amusement.

“None are without their secrets, but secrets and monstrous actions can ruin a man… or a woman.” The grin was perverse, those eyes tinged with an old maddness. “What secrets does a man hide in his home? What nightmares would drive him from it? The lingering ghost of a dead love?” Gankutsuou threw his head back with a sharp laugh, reclined against Alucards side, chin upon the vampire’s shoulder. “Perhaps. Yet would would strike fear into the heart of a casual murderer but ruin?” He grinned looked away, eyes distant, Gankutsuou’s visage burning bright on his forehead.

Alucard tilted his head. “And what sort of ruin have you in mind for your dear Prosecutor?”

“OH, it is more than his secret. A liscentious woman without loyalty or shame…”  
Disgust was there, Alucard tugged again on thick curls, fingertips brushing along the trim line of the Count’s back.

“All of this over a sordid love affair? Dear Count, surely you have not gone to this trouble for such trifles?”

“Not at all, Monsieur Dracul, I would not disappoint an honored spectator so. I’ve risen the dead you see, brought the fruit of their combined sins back to them.”

Alucard grinned, chuckled again. “Monsieur Cavalcante?” HIs amusement was palpable, Gankutsuou nodded, humming thoughtfully as he glanced at the clock.

“Come, wittness their despair, they should be arriving soon. And what better emissary to send them than the naive fool?”

The cackle was ominous as Gankutsuou led Alucard through the twisting halls, through passageways concealed behind tapestries and into a back room that looked more like a cavern. There, the Count caressed a chest, grimy with dirt and rusted from age and smiled nastily. “Soon.”

It seemed only moments before a gasp in the next room alerted them to the arrival of one party. With a chuckle the Count entered a bedchamber and the drama unfolded. Like a scripted play, Alucard mused, as the Prosecutor Villefort and Mademoiselle Danglars played through their incredulity and scandal as though conducted by a puppetmaster.

Another moment and Albert was entering the room behind the Count, a pep in his step until he caught sight of Alucard. Shoulders slumped and the child seemed to deflate. The vampire shared a look with the Count, but Albert seemed unwilling to simply skulk. No, the little fool began touting off some nonesense, asking questions that were plain if he were not such a fool. Alucard almost pitied him.

And there, the chest. The casket of sin, set into ignorant hands and bid to display - to a wrenching scream of old maddness and guilt. Everything seemed to explode at once, the occupants frantic for what to do - and Albert was running as Mademoiselle Danglars was lain upon her bed.

“Bed of sin indeed.” Alucard mused with no small amount of disgusted amusement.

Surely this act would have the curtains drawn soon. And there, with the arrival of Eugenie and Monsieur Danglars, and the Count was politely excusing himself, slipping into the shared room with a well-contained weariness.

“I would hope the excitement proved worth the visit, yet I somehow feel a measure of disgust for such tracky performances myself.”

The tone was bitter Alucard brushed a thumb down one azure cheek with a quiet chuckle.

“The fun is ruined when the sins are so base.”

Gankutsuou nodded, slipped from the cavern, led them again through the winding maze of halls and rooms and shadow. 

Long fingers tugged at cravat and dinner jacket until both were slung over one arm, plucked the buttons of blouse free and seemed to stagger for a moment. Alucard gripped the Count’s elbow, confusion furrowing brow when the Count waved him off.

“It is the price I must pay.”

With that enigmatic statement, he led the Vampire King into an alcove lit only by moonlight through stained glass. Beneath the depiction of Mother Mary he tossed aside the embellishments of attire and leaned against the wall. For a moment he breathed, in and out around the crushing pain, an inevitability. Metamorphosis could not be obtained without pain.

A touch to cheek had eyes opening, peering into that paraffin face that politely asked but displayed none of that human concern such as ailed Betuccio and Haydee. Gankutsuou smiled, holding that hand to his face.

“This body was mortal, Monsieur Dracul. It is merely being… adjusted to fit immortal persuasions. Surely your own creation was not easy.”

Alucard, looking thoughtful, nodded.

“Your mortal companions do not understand. They fear this, do they not?”

The Count laughed, sighed as the pain eased.

“Of course they do not. They fear a demon, a monster. Little have they realized good and evil do not exist in such a black and white state. For we are neither and both, just as we are human and essence.”

A shrug, and the Count’s hold tightened, bi-colored eyes intensifying upon the vampire’s face.

“I had wondered, Monsieur Alucard, if you would entertain the whim of such a creature as I.” His smile now held none of the delinquency of before, slow and sensual, Gankutsuou closed the small space between himself and the vampire, abandoning Alucard’s hand to tug at the lapels of his jacket. “I find such moments as these birth the strangest of moods, and desires.” Head canted, dark curls spilling across face and shoulder. “I find myself curious of the intimacies of a vampire.”

Ruby eyes twitched, pupils dilating in almost anticipation. Alucard leaned down, noses almost brushing and voice dropping to a whisper.

“Have you now, Monsieur Gankutsuou?” He husked in question. The Count hummed, eyes alight.

“Of course I am sure such a presumptuous curiosity would be unbearably rude to insist upon… I find myself, however, quite a tactless individual.”

Alucard huffed a laugh, grin wide and feral, eyes narrowed in a leer. A shove and the Count was trapped between himself and the wall, a motion far too quick for human eyes and Alucard flexed his hold around pinned wrists.

“For such a presumptuous query, you sound not at all repentent, sweet Gankutsuou.” He growled, fangs brushing his lip. Alucard felt the Count shudder, smelled the spike in pulse and the stutter of heartbeat.

Lips traced a line of ice down the side of that long, blue neck and the Count sucked in a sharp breath, head canting, neck bared to the careful scrape of fang.

“Well then, perhaps you can find it within yourself to explain to one such as myself, why such presumptuous behavior is…” A little gasp when the cold wet tongue kissed artery in a slow swipe. “inadvisable.” He breathed out on another shudder a second before fangs sank home.

The groan that followed was almost a purr, at the sharp pin prick of pain, the haze and the pleasure, less effective than the mindless ecstasy experienced by a human - but no less enjoyable. Gloved hands curled in the vice-grip of Alucards hands, nails biting at skin through silk, spine arching forward sharply.

Alucard drank of power and life - enough human within the blood to warm it, if only just… a sharp, bitter taste of other that sang across his tongue like a fine wine. The vampire growled, a grumble deep in his throat and pressed closer against the Count, crushing breath from lungs with the vicious hold.

Another swallow and Alucard pulled away, eyes low, almost intoxicated with the taste - the heady tang of power as he feasted upon the essence of man and monster. Tongue lapped at ruby lips, glimmery, hellfire eyes watching the bloom of crimson stain that perfect white blouse and nearly grumbled a noise of feral, possessive appreciation before licking at the dribbling wounds. Already they were healing over, and Alucard had to marvel in appreciation at Gankutsuou’s resilience, even if the body in his arms trembled in fatigue.

“Are you satisfied with my answer, Monsieur?” Alucard teased and grinned at the breathy laugh that met his question, the sharp jerk on his chin before the Count crushed lips together in a vicious, brief kiss. He licked his own blood from his lips as he leaned back against the wall, for support if nothing else, and reveled in the hum of euphoria that lingered like the high of climax.

“Quite, Monsieur Dracul.”

Alucard assisted the Count in standing, and the man tugged at his stained collar with a sigh.

“An answer and a ruined shirt. Brute.”

The quirk of lips was amused despite the garrish stain and with a shrug cravat was re-tied and suit jacket replaced.

“Well, shouldn’t keep my guests waiting, wouldn’t want to be rude.”

But eyes told Alucard the Count wanted nothing less than to revisit the mortals. The vampire grinned and shrugged, leading the way from the alcove.

“Just look at it this way, the night is almost over and they will surely be tied up within their own melodrama to bother you. Or I.”

Gankutsuou chuckled, laying a commiserating hand upon Alucard’s shoulder as they rounded the corner for the pain portion of the villa.

* * * * *

In the courtyard, Valentine laid a hand upon Albert’s shoulder, giving the boy a soft shake.

“Albert? What’s wrong?”

The stunned teen could only stare, and stew in the humiliation of his own actions. Already he’d spied upon the Count before, neither had really been intentional… and yet, this… somehow this felt so much more an invasion.

Writhing shadows, a flash of fang, eyes that burned liek hellfire and blood, seeping and staining and filling the air with the scent of iron and life.

Albert shuddered, shook away the flash of memory and offered Valentine a weak smile.

“It’s… nothing really… just… I saw something a little strange.”

Maximilian and Valentine shared a look before both took a seat on either side of their friend. They considered sharing what they saw earlier, but held back… after all, it could have been a misunderstanding… and there was nothing wrong - except perhaps… vanishing like that. Valentine shivered.

“Albert what did you see?” Maximilian pressed.

“I… saw…” The teen blushed scarlet and shook his head before laughing and forcing a grin. “Nothing… I think I’m just tired and a bit shaken from Mademoiselle Danglar’s fainting.” He stood suddenly, rubbing at his hair. “I should be heading back inside now. I’m sure Franz is probably wondering where I’ve wandered off to.”

And he was leaving the two, to sit and ponder what had shaken him so.


	7. Act VII: Questions, Questions

“Alucard, what are you doing, precisely?”

They were the first words Integra spoke, after the extended, tense silence that hung between them after leaving the villa. The suite door closed, as though to emphasize her question and Alucard stopped in the middle of the dark room.

“Why, whatever do you mean, Sir?”

Blue eyes narrowed, though Integra never turned to face his back.

“I mean, why is there blood on your lapel?”

The vampire glanced sidelong over his shoulder, a grin pulling lips away from jagged teeth.

“I had a rather exotic desser, my Master.”

Tension sang in every taunt line of Integra’s back.

“Alucard. Why do you persist in cavorting with our enemy? What game are you playing?”

His laughter ahd teeth clenching, fists closing in rage.

“Game… hmm, a very enjoyable one. A game such as I have yet to experience.”

Now he turned to her, those eyes fixed heavy on her back, expression flattening.

“This enemy, as you call him, is no vampire, Integra Hellsing. Do you truly think your Organization is truly prepared to handle this?”

She spun, platinum locks flying and eyes flashing in rage.

“I am very well aware this mosnter isn’t a vampire, Alucard. What is he? What was tonight? Surely if you had time to find a snack you had time to gather information.”

Alucard turned, plopped into a chair and reclined back, glimmering eyes fixed upon the ceiling almost thoughtfully.

“I do not know what he is.”

The look Integra offered to that was sharp, touched with worry.

“I am uncertain if he can even be killed, not in the sense that vampires and humans and ghouls can be killed.”

She turned away, arms crossing and a scowl settling on severe features.

“Then we must find a way to imprison this monster.”

“Integra, I did not think you so cruel.”

The silence was deafening and she turned, almost shocked, to face the sublime sobriety of Alucard’s gaze. He seemed to look through her, and Integra could not help feeling somehow judged with that look. Judged and found lacking, all for one statement. She had nothing to say.

“Destroy a monster? Certainly. Most certainly I take pride in ridding the world of vermin and pests bred by parasites whom feed on humanity. This… creature is neither. But would you truly condemn any sentient being to such a cage? Locked away in some far hole, chained and left to torment for… what? What offenses do you level such a judgement for, Integra Hellsing?”

She had no answers, and Alucard offered no further thoughts as he slipped from the room, pre-dawn light at his heels.


	8. Act VIII: Confession

“Franz?”

The blonde paused his mindless search on the internet, fingers freezing above keys to look at Albert. In truth, he’d rather been biding his time for the other to come out of whatever funk he was in and talk. Valentine and Maximilian had mentioned Albert behaving strangely at the villa, and with the way he kept toying with that watch the Count gave him, Franz could only surmise it pertained to that. Of course. What in Albert’s life didn’t seem to come down to the Count these days? 

Franz shook those thoughts off, spun in his chair to face his childhood friend, and oblivious love.

“What is it?” 

Albert hesitated, fingers tapping at the watch in his grasp in anxiety. Blue eyes darted about the room and a blush suffused cheeks.

Dread settled in Franz’s stomach. Had the Count done something to Albert?  
That dread was quickly dashed by rage and fingers gripped the arms of his chair tightly to keep himself seated.

“Albert?”

He pressed and the Viscount jumped before grinning and setting the watch aside. Still, he wouldn’t quite make eye-contact with Franz.

“Do you… believe in vampires, Franz?”

WHAT?

Franz starred, nonplussed, at Albert - who still wouldn’t look at him.

“Vampires?”

Albert nodded.

“Vampires, Albert?”

Now the Viscount had that bullheaded look he got whenever anyone told him to stay away from the Count. Franz almost groaned.

“Have you been watching those old horror flicks again? I remember last time you had nightmares for a month.”

The blonde’s tone was dry and Albert looked positively incandescent.

“No, Franz. I did not have a bad dream after watching some stupid movies!” Albert hissed, hands balling into fists as he jerked away to glare at the wall.

“Nevermind.”

Franz did groan this time, exasperated beyond words with his friend.

“Albert, sit down and tell me what has you more high-strung than usual. Please? I’ll listen… but you have to actually tell me.”

Albert hesitated, gnawing at his lip in a most undignified manner before flopping back down in a huff and glaring hard at the floor.

“When we were at the villa… after Mademoiselle Dangalrs collapsed and everyone was… busy… with her. I had run back to tell the others, but I… on the way… I saw the Count and Lucien’s friend… that Alucard man from Britain.”

Franz bit his tongue, watching trepidation and envy war across Albert’s face.

“I was curious, you know… about that guy. I don’t like him… he’s… something’s not right.”

Franz rolled his eyes at the irony in that statement but otherwise waited with baited patience.

“They were talking but I couldn’t really hear what they said… I saw the Count stumble… like he was in pain, and he said it was… a price for something. I don’t know, I didn’t really understand their conversation. But then they were in this… alcove or whatever and…”

Albert’s face flamed and Franz sat back with a dubious expression. The utter embarassment on the Viscount’s face made him question if he wanted to know what his friend saw.

“He bit him, Franz!”

Albert exploded, sounded scandalized and almost dazed and blushed harder if anything. ‘Oh no.’ Franz wanted to groan because that expression… ugh… No. He was not going to think about that. Not going to think about Albert being aroused from… from peeping in on whatever that shady Count was doing with that shady-er foreigner. No.

“Bit the Count?”

Albert nodded and sat back, gaze drifting off again with a frown.

“It was weird, Franz. That Alucard guy, I could see his fangs you know? They were long… like knives in his mouth… and his eyes were glowing… and…”

Writhing shadows that seemed to breathe, seemed to look at him even as they crashed soundlessly against the stone wall like a breaking wave, twined up the Counts legs from the train of Alucard’s legs. Moving like they were alive, like they were testing and tasting and looking for something to devour. And it smelled like death even as the too-strong scent of blood creeping across white linen drew his attention.

“ALBERT!”

The teen jerked from the memory as Franz cuffed his head, blue eyes alight with worry.

“What the hell was that?”

Albert shook his head again, as though clearing it.

“I… it was like the shadows were moving, Franz… like they were alive… and that guy, Alucard…”

Albert shuddered and Franz rested a hand on his shoulder, his own brow furrowed in worry, the smile empty of any comfort.

“So maybe we should definitely stay away from him… stay away from them both.”

Albert jerked, eyes narrowing.

“What? And let him do… do God knows what to the Count?”

Franz could have smashed his head into a brick wall and felt less of a headache. Albert was standing and pacing, feet slapping angrily across the wooden floor in a ridiculously childish stomp.

“That Brit is unnatural, Franz. Some sort of vampire or… or… something! I can’t just let him…” Hands gesticulated wildly. “Talk the Count into freaky things. He’s my friend, Franz.”

Franz sighed, rubbed at his temples and ignored the puppyish pleading in Albert’s eyes.

“Whatever.” He conceded with ill humor and looked away at the radiant grin that lit Albert’s face, ignored the twinge in his chest, because at least if he agreed with Albert he could be around to curb the idiot’s enthusiasm.


	9. Act IX: Luncheon and a Ride

Too early it seemed there came a knocking at 30 Champs-Elysees for Bertuccio to answer and nearly slam the door again when he was faced with Albert de Morcerf. The kid was dangerously persistent, and terribly annoying in his naivete. No matter how much the Count may get his kicks tugging the kid’s chain… although Bertuccio wasn’t quite convinced it was all completely a ploy.

“Yes?”

Albert smiled sheepishly. “Err, I was wondering if the Count would maybe like to join me for luncheon?”

Ah, no more crises, Bertuccio could live with this and the crackle of ascent whispered through the com in his ear was relayed to the Viscount. The kid practically hop-skipped inside after Bertuccio. The Count was already sat down to dine, Haydee at the table and waving cheerfully to Albert who nodded back. The Count’s expression was as politely indiscernible as ever.

“Good morning, Albert. I hadn’t quite expected you to be up so early.”

Albert took the seat offered with a muttered thanks and sipped at the tea Haydee poured.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep so well after that concert Franz drug me to last night, so I just decided to go out. Er, I hope it’s not too much of a bother?”

Idiot kid. The Count shook his head, waving off Albert’s chagrined question.

“Not to worry, as you can see, there is far more to eat than I could consume myself.”

Albert surveyed the array of dishes, many French in taste - but some foreign. Many had the look of coming from some far-traveled corner of space and the majority of the meal was consumed with Albert asking polite questions about each dish’s origin. Haydee answered most, but several the Count detailed. Albert though the man would have made a phenomenal storyteller, the way he spoke measured and… well, engrossing.

Or maybe he just really didn’t want to analyze why he found himself so fixated on what the Count said.

Albert tried, a couple of times to broach the topic he wanted to address - but found himself hesitant with Bertuccio and Haydee around. So he bit his lip and just enjoyed the morning. Enjoyed being around people he considered friends, and someone he admired… someone he saw almost like a guardian. Franz didn’t understand Albert knew, knew he couldn’t understand… and perhaps it didn’t make sense but Albert couldn’t deny the connection he felt to the Count.

Everything was perfect.

That is, of course, until every rule Albert knew about vampires from his (admittedly rather lacking) research of them (mostly from films), was broken. It was nearing 2:00 p.m. when Bertuccio stepped out onto the veranda with a very-much-unwelcome guest. 

Alucard waved a gloved hand in greeting, grin stretching across his face and unnatural eyes obscured behind garish orange sunglasses. His hair was down and loose, spilling around his shoulders and down his back - Albert could swear it had been longer the last time he saw the man (vampire). He looked far too svelt in a charcoal suit, black tie and crimson blouse - far too tempting and suave and… Albert clenched his fists and averted his simmering glare, teeth nearly grinding.

Haydee touched his arm, a question in her eyes but he grinned to let her know it wasn’t important - even though it really really was.

The worst part was how the Count seemed to forget the rest of them when Alucard showed, attention entirely fixated on the demon. Albert clenched his fists and stared at the ground as the Count glided by, the faintest scent of orchids and musk from his cologne tantalizing Albert’s senses. Haydee again touched his arm and Albert glanced up sullenly.

“Perhaps we could continue our discussion inside?”

He hesitated, glanced back at how the Count’s fingers brushed against the edge of Alucard’s sleeve - how the faintest quirk of mischevious smile lit moved his usually genial face - and nodded sharply to Haydee.

“Yeah… let’s go inside.”

Albert steadfastly ignored her almost pitying look. 

* * * * * 

“I wasn’t aware babysitting was in your repetoire.”

Midnight brows arched, lips curling into a Cheshire smile as the Count flourished a hand thoughtlessly.

“Come now, any upstanding gentlemen should be aware of the woes of offspring and well-fit to manage their capricious tempers.”

Alucard snorted inelegantly, at the near disdainful sarcasm in the Count’s tone. Lips quirked upward in a smirk, as he closed the distance between them, brushing curls with the back of one hand.

“Ah, do not sound so put-out my friend. After all, the joys of siring a new generation cannot truly be fathomed until experienced.” The vampire took a step back, laying a hand upon his breast, eyes distant in full swing of such a minor performance. “I myself thought such an existence abhorrent, certainly not for I - alas, the fates will have their way.” Palms spread, and expression twisted into a mockery of resignation. “What more could I do? But bestow immortality upon another, and such a fascinating path it has proven to be.”

Silence.

Alucard cackled, back arching and head thrown back as he tugged away sunglasses to wipe at tears of mirth that weren’t there.

“Why, such an expression, sweet Count?”

And indeed Gankutsuou was watching Alucard with a most dubious expression, arms crossed and head canted to one side. He was rather fetching wearing incomprehension. Alucard grinned, allowed the silence to hang for a moment before sighing.

“The Policegirl, or perhaps you would remember her as a most ill timed interruption upon our first meeting.”

Recognition in those odd eyes, but the count still looked dubious about the meaning of “offspring” as Alucard used it. Alucard continued on, taking a seat as though oblivious to the unasked question.

“I had the unfortunate decision to sarifice a life to end the rampage of a rather deluded creature calling himself vampire.” Two fingers and thumb, pressing down in mockery of a gun firing. “Right through the chest, a death wound without a doubt. Lucky for her, she retained her virtue. A mortal untouched by the sin of intimacy may join the ranks of the undead, may ascend to the immortality of vampire.” Ruby eyes glimmered fiendishly as Alucard glanced over his shoulder. “Perhaps one day, one of the many centuries to come, I shall ask dear little Seras if she still appreciates the mercy of my fangs.”

He cackled a moment later, silently surprised by the soft, ironic chuckle of Gankutsuou behind him. Hands upon his shoulders, a soft weight that caressed the smooth fabric of his jacket.

“Amusing, that I have offered the same ultimatum to a certain persistent youth. The naivete of the sheltered astounds me. How easily they give their heart, their faith into the hands of another. How readily they step into the path of abuse.”

Lips parted, peeling away from glimmering fangs, the expression twisted with that same deranged ferocity Alucard wittnessed at the villa. The vampire was silent a moment, measuring the man at his back with a casual scrutiny.

“I wonder how much of our meeting was the sheer coincidence of ignorance and not the bitter humor of fate. Do you not question what ugly end awaits us?”

Gankutsuou considered the words, eyes fixed upon the horizon as fingers toyed with loose strands of ebony.

“Yes and no, what may come shall come. Like Oedipus we shall be thrust upon our fate no matter how we may fight against it.” Head cocked, ruby and topaz dancing in dark amusement as the Count looked down upon Alucard. “Yet there is none to say he path to ruin cannot be an enjoyable one.”

Alucard’s boisterous laugh carried across the pruned grounds, echoed in the false sky and illusion of nature. A mechanical marvel, a world within the fragile glass of a globe.

* * * * *

In attempt to avoid stagnation, the Count recommended riding. Of course there was nothing quite like the trailing adventures through true wilderness, but there was neither the time nor the facilities for such indulgences.

“I hope you don’t mind this sad immitation of the world. It is rather a frivolous indulgence of mine to have built it.”

Gankutsuou offered offhandedly as he led Alucard along whtie stone walkways away from the sea and synthetic sharks - through the haze of fog and mist that separated the worlds of his past like a physical divide. Lush trees and thick grass grew on the other side, stopping at some invisible boundary, dappled with the pervading artificial sunlight and low encumberance of berry bushes. 

“I would hardly speak of such an accomplished creation in so fickle a tone.”

Alucard offered, attention roving over everything they passed. Despite his long life, there were indeed still things that managed to surprise the vampire. Those generally ran in line with humanity’s perserverance and baffling ability to survive the most extreme of situations. This though, was another matter. This Gankutsuou was more and more a surprise - shirking off, even disdaining mortality in the same breath as he indulged those very human of memories.

“Oh? Have I impress you, My Liege?”

The purr and side-long look, the crooked smirk - were enough to stroke the low burn of desire. In but a step he was hovering over the Count’s shoulder, breath caressing the long tip of an ear.

“I find myself ever so thrilled for what you shall surprise me with next.”

Fingertips caressed an arm, steps slowing to nearly a halt when Alucard pressed nearer, lips brushing temple in chaste mimickry of a kiss. Against his chest, Gankutsuou hummed, eyes low and caressing the line of Alucard’s jaw slowly, almost thoughtful.

“Then let us pray my eccentricities continue to bring you such amusement. I would be ever so bereft should I lose the favor of your company.”

It was only slightly alarming how much truth the Count found in those coy, teasing words - and he stepped forward, away from the embrace of those arms. They had a plan, he had a plan that counted far longer than the whims of an evening activity. He could not forget, could not be distracted by sweet words and sweeter pleasure.

He would not. He was Gankutsuou and he would bring sinners their own nightmares in repayment for their cruelty. 

Alucard said nothing about the sudden change in the Count’s demeanor, the quickening of pace, merely followed along behind. Eventually the stable came into view, a rich chestnut structure with wrought iron fencing and open windows. There were already mares and foals trotting in immitation fields, leaving the vampire to wonder if their life too, was not artificial.

It was almost sad in a way. This wonderland of clockwork splendor - with it’s awe-inspiring sights and fantastical setting - and yet nothing breathed, nothing pulsed with life. All of it artifical - fake. Barren of what made this world so wondrous. Alucard felt his awe tainted by the thoughts, shook them and followed Gankutsuou into the stable, where two ivory Lipizzaner horses awaited them.

Both were saddled, neared the same 15 hands in height and tossed their heads with all the high-bred attitude one would expect of such a specimen. They were nearly perfect re-creations, down the the blinking eyes and nervous, prancing shuffle of hooves.

Azure skin made a beautiful contrast to those ghostly pelts, and Alucard indulged a brief fantasy while they mounted and guided the animals from the stables. They set out on a trail masterfully laid down to mimic nature, and yet the vampire found himself increasingly bothered by this… illusion, the faux-reality. Chilled by it, confused almost - though not quite disgusted.

Still, he allowed their silence, filled with brooding thoughts, to continue for an hour and then two. They wandered farther and father into this enchanted land, and far enough as firm hands tugged reins and the machine beneath him gave an indignant huff and stomp but halted.

The Count wasn’t far behind, turning a questioning eye to his companion.

“I must admit my previous awe at this wonderous place to have been somewhat spoiled.”

Gankutsuou swung the horse about, guiding it near Alucard’s own, brows furrowing and some elegant apology on lips - but no, Alucard needed to ask. Needed to know, desired to understand - and perhaps have his own theories disproven.

“Why do you cling so to this mockery of life?”

Gankutsuou jerked back, brows arching high and shoulders tensing in a tight line - Alucard had a moment to marvel at the swirl of emotion he found in those too-stoic eyes. They almost accused betrayal, but he wasn’t quite finished - and the Count looked nowhere near answering.

“This place, this little world. It is fantastical; beautiful in it’s way… yet it is all fake. All of it a mockery of a world the breathes and lives. I wonder why one who swims so easily amongst mortals, would put such effort into perfecting something so barren.”

Fingers tugged gently at the mane of his steed, as though to prove his point.

“Even these, though they look so real - though they breathe as any creature should… they are little more than machines. They think only what they are programmed to think, and behave only as they are bid behave by these very programs.”

Alucard thought perhaps, he might have questioned too far, Gankutsuou looked a breath away from murder, or shattering like crystal.

“Why?”

There was no condemnation, no judgement… yet perhaps his eloquence had fled, perhaps it was a bit brusque and rude. Alucard hardly cared, when curiosity burned so very near to disappointment.

A cold that only settled more firmly in a belly still keening praises of power-sweetened blood, when the silence stretched without foreseeable end.

“Machines, Monsieur, will not betray you.”

With a sharp jerk of the reins and a posture straight backed as a portrait, the Count trotted by. There were no words needed to understand the curt, cold dismissal in that too-blank expression.


	10. Eventide

Heavy steam filled the room, obscuring black granite stonework and suffocating the soft, blue flamed candles. Humidty hung heavy in the enclosed room, the water bubbling softly with heat that should have cooked flesh - yet did little to penetrated the harsh cold of azure skin. Nor little else to soothe the worries of a troubled mind.

Of course, they were worries he should have foreseen. Unlike the foolish humans tricked by simple words and promises, such a being as Count Dracula would not be so easily distracted. 

He should have expected there to be questions eventually, although he wasn’t entirely certain when the long-term nature of this involvement was so silently accepted. A sigh shook shoulders, bi-colored gaze staring at the the murky, salted and scented depths of the bath water. Bubbles floated across the surface, soft and shimmering in the haze of light, filling the air with lavender fragrance. 

Lip curled up in a disdainful snarl and Gankutsuou reclined back, eyes closing as he sank into the near-boiling depths. Surely he could learn how to divert Alucard’s curiosity, after all he had only to be patient and hold out hope. As he had done for twenty-five years, as he had done for 1000 years. Imprisoned. Betrayed. Drenched in the very darkness he so loathed in others.

Blue roses sat, almost as though untouched by time, in the dim bedroom. They drew the eye and they drew ire, but he couldn’t bring himself to destroy their beauty. There was so little of it in his life. The temptation was cast aside with the dissipating steam roiling from the bathing room, beat out by subterranian chill. He crossed to the stone bed, sank atop the flimsy layer of fabric. For all it’s plush luxury, the Egyptian cotton duvet was never meant to substitute for the whole of a proper bed - but muscles melted against unforgiving stone like the softest of mattress. Too long had he slept with nothing but woolen rags and ragged cement to bear such things.

The Count wondered, with some detached amusement, what Alucard would say about this mockery. This little pit that so closely mirrored the confines of his Hell for nearly two decades. Wondered if the maddness of that little box cling to the blue-lit walls of this chamber. He wondered if it smelled of rebirth, as they had been when Edmond Dantes offered up his soul to Gankutsuou.

The Count smiled humourlessly, chuckled in quiet reproach at such pathetic thoughts he entertained so freely this night.

Well, perhaps he wasn’t alone in keeping company with old demons.

Slumber came with a shock, for how rare a partner it made - swept the Count away into that evasive land of dreams, curled on his side, a single blue rose clutched oh-so carefully in clawed fingers.


	11. Re-Forged

Two days later brought explosive good humor as Bastille Day dawned with all of it’s pomp and celebration. Fireworks lit the sky from dawn until dusk, parades marched the sreets bearing floats, balloons, dancers, performers, marching bands, flag twirlers, exotic women and alien performers. The soldiers marched dress formation, their uniforms and cord and medals glimmering in clear sunlight, high-polished shoes and boots clicking smartly down the paved streets.

Food and wine ran in excess, dancing and running children and visiting relatives filled homes and streets to partake of the festivities. Streamers decorated the trees, artists brought out their patriotism, famous musicians were booked to enthrall the crowds.

Balls and luncheons and small, plebeian parties were held within what felt like every home, and when the sun set, candles and bondfires and windowlight cast the evening into a surreal form of day.

It was exuberant, indulgent, a gluttinous affair to offer their drunken, heartfelt support for the French Army and all it’s many great conquests. 

It came as no surprise that the Nobility took it upon themselves to host extravagent balls to out-do every other party - including each other and their own of previous years. What came as the shock, to those within the proper and high-bred social circles, was the lack of tell-tale ebony invitations. Women waited, ambitious men plotted - and yet, no courier came bearing notice they all expected.

Why had not the infamous Count of Monte Cristo made a debut of the occassion? Certainly he had the money, the connections - certainly it would be a party such as none of them could ever forget. Certainly. Yet, it hadn’t happened, and so they plodded the path of years past and balls of expected extravagance.

* * * * *

Despite not playing host, the Count made an appearance - however briefly - at one of the many balls. He spoke with the charismatic ease of any other event, offered the same polite smiles, walked the fine line between propriety and scandal. Excepting perhaps the shadow of that one dance still hovering in his wake - and the whispers of the noted lack of company.

It was gossip and drama and they feasted upon concocting wild tales about the when and why and how of the whole affair. Some going so far as to chatter along about their predictions of the future. Nothing new in the nature of the gossip mill.

What was new, was a very silent observation Integra Hellsing made upon (reluctantly) shaking the Counts hand when she and Lucien bumped into him. Alucard had foregone the festivities for a venture out of the city - Integra didn’t ask details on just what nature of mayhem he planned to unleash. She rather wished she had inquired into a few more of those details when the Count asked after his whereabouts, and she was left to politely inform him Alucard wasn’t present. The moment of disappointment that tinged those alien features was all she needed to stir a new flurry of questions and ‘what the hell was Alucard doing’?

* * * * *

Integra wasn’t the only person who noted the lack of Alucard’s presence, though the Viscount was far more pleased with this seeming rift between the two men. So far as he was concerned, the less time the Count spent around that creep the better.

Next to him, Franz slugged back his fourth glass of wine and proceeded to hum attentively at key moments while Albert waxed poetic on the Count and his… whatever it was with this Alucard. Franz wondered, very silently and only to himself, when Albert thought himself qualified to, Heaven forbid, act as protector to a person’s virtue.

The blonde choked on his own drink at the image that brought. Whatever virtue the Count may have once had, Franz had little doubts there was none left now. 

* * * * *

The night drug on, too long and the Count slipped easily away, far earlier than was even his habit for retreating from the public. The mood for jovial celebrations was not showing him much favor, and in truth, he found himself lingering on the ridiculousness of it all once again. This event was irrelevant to his plan, yet here he was, wasting time and hesitating - and for what? Because they found interest and… perhaps companionship in another?

Ridiculous, but true, and since fate seemed cruel enough to deny him an opportunity to speak face to face - returning a gesture would be the next best. Perhaps he found a bit of that sad romantic Edmond Dantes had been resurfacing for such a silly gesutre. 

A courier would have been proper, but courier’s were people and they could talk. So Gankutsuou cared for this matter as he did most, by himself. It didn’t require much covert effort; simply strolling into a hotel was hardly reason for suspicion.

Leaving a rather large boquet of pink-tipped white roses tied with sapphire ribbon and left with an indigo envelope bearing Alucard’s name as ‘Monsieur Dracul’ in silver ink… well, that was, perhaps, the more questionable of the night’s actions.


	12. Intentions

Monsieur Alucard,  
I have been remiss in my conduct toward you, and for that I apologize. I was most looking forward to making your acquaintance at the Bastille festivities, however, it seems my boorishness has created more rift than I anticipated. I implore that you not take heart in my most ill-conceived manner toward you ‘pon our last meeting - and hope this letter finds you with some manner of appreciation for the fickle felicity of Paris.

Again I offer my sincerest apologies for my rudeness.  
With Hope,  
Count de Monte Cristo

The letter stared him down, mocked him from it’s innocuous stand against the vase of vibrant roses. Ruby eyes glimmered annoyance as Alucard stared back from his recline against the far wall in the too-small bedroom of Integra’s suite. Arms were crossed at his chest, foot tapping a rhythm of agitation against the floor. Alucard did not quite understand the symbolism of those mix-breed roses - they could be taken in many ways, and merely as an aesthetic preference.

Although why such pastel colors when there were perfectly wonderful crimson roses to be had, Alucard couldn’t fathom.

That, however, was not what had Alucard agitated. No, it took more than a note which prompted Seras to smirk and wink at him at every opportunity like the insufferable brat-child she was, to cause such agitation. No matter that the roses were almost insulting in their feminity.

What had the vampire worked up was the sense of sincerity to this supplications. Certainly a polite apology would be suspected, but this level of attachment - or perhaps more, suggested attachment - was worrisome. There was no true reason for it, save the singular experience of being two beings old and jaded in their lives, reaching out in some… gamble for kindred. Or whatever other sentimental crap could be cooked up. Alucard hadn’t imagined one such as Gankutsuou would endeavor, or perhaps allow, such foolish fancies to govern him.

Eyes flared red, narrowed in scrutinly of that parchment - and had he the ability, it might have set afire from the weight of that stare alone.

Unless it was all a lie, a ruse - a genteel construct whose existence suggested a far more cunning and silver-tongued ability than Alucard presumed.

Such things were worrisome thoughts, these suggestions and doubts they planted. Such things left the vampire to wonder if this Count of Monte Cristo, this Gankutsuou, was not indeed a dog to be put down as he had put down so many before. 

It was almost shocking how disappointing he found that possibility to be. How dread lingered around such thoughts.

“I often find my questions best answered by seeking answers to those questions.”

A rasping voice drawling acerbically from the shadows, and Alucard cast Walter a disparaging look, flicked his red cloack and vanished in the writhing shadow. On the table, indigo parchment caught flame, burned until naught but ashes lay in it’s place.

Walter smiled with no little amount of morbid humor.

* * * * * 

Glass fell, shattered like teardrops on the floor, the yellow of lemon juice leaking across tile like blood and the body of a too-young girl collapse in a heap, choking and gasping a terrible death rattle before the very eyes of her bed-ridden grandfather.

Across Paris, three young men rushed to the aid of their friend after an anonymous letter let on to some vile plot for a poisoning within the Villefort family.

In the underbelly, a spy elated in the ease with which this latest demand to investigate the Count of Monte Cristo was proving to be as he stalking an old priest from one person to another. Indeed, it was looking as though he would have much to tell his employer in the upcoming report. It was with a quick step and high hopes that he left his latest interview at noon - that was the end of today’s trail, after all he would be unable to board a boat for Marsailles for two days with the flood of people leaving after Bastille.

* * * * *

Bertuccio stood stunned and nonplussed in the opened doorway of 30 Champs-Elysees after a knock bid his attention, only to be bypassed by a dark wind that left him feeling cold and shaken. A moment longer and he closed the door with no small trepidation, shared a look and confused shrug with Baptistine and returned to enjoying free time while they had it.

Tucked within the fantastic marvel of a subterranean paradise, blue clawed hands carressed the silken pelt of an overripe white feline. She purred under the careful minstrations and occasional scratch at the ears, golden collar set with sapphires gleaming proudy about her neck, the end of a long bottle-brush tail flicking candidly in the embrace of her person. Above the duo rose plumes of smoke, voluminous and scented heavily of vanilla, around them the chirps of mechanical avian marvels and rustle of carefully manicured fauna, equally as artifical as their inhabitants.

The Count reclined in his self-made haven, eyes heavy and lashes low from the leisure at which he enjoyed solitude from humans he had been too long removed of. It was a tranquility he reveled in, more frequently since arriving in Paris - and yet one disturbed by the hair-raising feeling of something intruding on his solace.

Muscles tensed, a spring board ready to launch him into action against this interloper, only to have such replies wasted when charcoal clad arms wrapped about shoulders, bearing in hand the lush white of a boquet, it’s perfume already teasing senses tantalized by the heavy musk of the figure at his back.

“You know,” breathed that too-familiar rasp against his ear, eliciting a shudder. “It is considered most rude, by some, not to make an apology in person.” The cat hissed as she bounded away indignantly to lick at a paw and glare at the offending man.

“And many would consider it rather queer to deliver such a boquet to one who has given offence.”

The Count echoed back, clawed fingers plucking a pristine white petal free of it’s bloom, seeming enamoured with the sight but making no move to lighten Alucard of his burde. Gankutsuou felt the grin stretch broad and feral against his cheek, the roses set aside almost thoughtless for those arms to more firmly entrap their prey.

“And would it be considered queer to have found no offence by which to be offended, and which renders such inelegant apologies useless?” Lips brushed a cheek and the Count closed his eyes, breath in haled deep and even and almost fighting for composure against the wiles of the ridiculous creature at his shoulder. “Although, I must admit to being most enamored with your skill of word.”

Tension sang through the form in Alucard’s arm, and eyes were slow to open, fixed far and away from their little bubble of intimacy.

“You think me insincere.”

Alucard chuckled, though it held none of the mocking levity so expected of him.

“Let us say I hold a respectable wariness for your silver tongue… like a songbird. I have never read such pretty entreaties.”

The Count seemed at once stung and irritated by Alucard’s statement, grasped at one wrist with a strength surprising for the human form he took. The vampire himself withdrew in some shock of the pressure just bearing down upon bones that groaned in threat of shattering. Gankutsuou smiled emptily, stood from the sordid embrace to turn and face his… acquaintance standing.

Lashes swept low over odd eyes, hiding the tumultuous fury brewing like maddness in their depths, head canted in silent examination of the vampire still surveying his own wrist a, sending curls spilling over shoulder and cheek.

“You are a rather offensive creature, aren’t you?”

Startled, Alucard looked up, one ebony brow arched high and proud.

“I am as I am and no other way.” The grin was almost nasty. “I find it is not within me as a monster or a dog clinging to humanity’s shadow, to feign at what I am not.”

Gankutsuou, looked entirely unimpressed with the unsubtle jab, dusting fingers down the front of his shirt carelessly. “I do wonder, now that you speak of it… why one such as you would bother with this… fixation on humanity.” Lips pursed in a thoughtful moue and Alucard looked distinctly unimpressed with this lack of reaction. 

After a time Alucard smiled, palms cupping empty air as he turned half-away from the Count. “I find myself fascinated with their struggle. It is a beautiful thing, how desperately they cling to their fragile existence.” Loosed fingers curled tight and sudden into fists. “How quickly and easily it is to extinguish that little flame - and yet how viciously, nay surprisingly, they cling to it.” A canted head, ruby eyes slashed across the meager distance between them. “Do you not see the poetry in the irony of their suffering? The zeal with which they grasp onto hatred or love or happiness, and how easily they cast these aside?”

He laughed, fangs gleaming ivory in the briliant light, Gankutsuou frowned, odd eyes tracking the whimsical gestures to accompany such sympathies. 

“I find that perhaps your perception of humans is far kinder than mine. I see little beyond the easy evil they bestow upon one another, the glee when they trample friend or foe in their race for glory or riches.” 

Alucard measured the Count with a look, infernal gaze penetrating in ways it really shouldn’t, as though the vampire could read his history - both Edmond Dantes and Gankutsuou - with a look. It was a stare returned levelly, despite it’s intensity. Again, Alucard offered a smile, and rounded the bench with a careless tread.

“So serious a conversation was not why I paid you visit, sweet Count. I came to show in person, how your mistaken offense has given none.”

Fingertips brushed against a cheek, dusting midnight curls away from that stern visage. A gentle gesture Gankutsuou couldn’t help but lean into, no matter how the vampire raised hackles he long thought shed, and he grasped that retreating hand, bringing palms to lip even as odd eyes refused the leave the embrace of glimmering rubies.

“Indeed, I am sure you did - and yet more I fear your motivation was to make advances upon my patience.” The smile that curled lips would have, to a third party, been shockingly affectionate despite it’s overall lukewarm expression. “How else would you fill your time, if not trodding upon every nerve you can unearth?”

Alucard laughed, an almost surprised sound at the Count’s suprising jest, and tracked the feel of those lips grazing against his palm with every spoken word, with a heat pooling in his gaze and grin turning saccharine.


	13. Daring

Albert raced through the streets, legs working fast as they could, unaccustomed as he was to such flights afoot. He rushed, fast as he could, to the only person he could think to avail for assistance - the Count of Monte Cristo. After all, the man had assisted Albert time and time again, why not now would he prove to be a savior? Onward he raced, until his lungs burned and his side ached from the pain of exertion, but still he ran, and ran and nearly collided with the heavy wooden door of 30 Champs Elysses, pounded at the door even as lungs heaved for breath. 

The door opened, admitting the sunglass covered face of Bertuccio, who, despite his covering still displayed open alarm at such uncouth demands for admittiance.

“Viscount de Morcerf, what has brought you here… in such a state?”

The smuggler cum bodyguard cum steward, asked with some degree of forced patience.

“The Count…” Albert gasped, “is he available? Only, it is an emergency, most… grave.” Standing at last, clutching his side, the Viscount’s eyes were wide and siwrled wild with that expression so akin to the desperate.

Bertuccio hesitated, eyeing the young man from behind his shield of sunglasses before pressing at the earpiece most geniously concealed.A few muttered words and the dark-complected man was shaking his head. “The Count is unavailable at present, it would seem he has parted company with Paris but half an hour ago on business.”

Albert visibly deflated, an expression of forboding and doom clouding his young face. Bertuccio, taken by the piteous expression, couldn’t help but hesitate in his orders and, biting at his lip in some anxiety, the Corsican retreated, bidding Albert wait but a moment.

Once inside, and secure that the Viscount could not overhear his conversation, Bertuccio dialed down to call upon the Count.

“Bertuccio, perhaps I was mistaken, though I thought myself quite clear when stating that I am indisposed.”

That cold drawl had the hairs on his body raising, but Bertuccio pressed on, intent in his mission for he was not a bearer of such a cold heart as Gankutsuou. “Sire, I understood them perfectly… only the boy looks so perfectly woebegotten I thought perhaps there was something I could do in your stead - if only I find out what is the matter with him.”

There was silence for a time, and Bertuccio thought he heard another voice speaking with the Count - although of course that was impossible, as none had entered today. The soft echo of a chuckle over the mic drew forth the memory of a dark wind and a bone-freezing chill.

“Of course, if it is within your ability you may do as you please. Paris, after all, is a city of liberty.”

There was no small amount of bitterness and morbid irony in that statement, Bertuccio for his part, merely muttered a thanks before returning to the door and a very pale Albert. The hope that sprung into those blue eyes was almost as pitiful as dread.

“I have been given leave to assist, if there is anything one such as I may do.”

Albert looked most incredulous at the offer, shocked at it’s being offered at all - but shook his head and offered a tight, wan smile.

“A dear friend of mine, and the hopeful, but perhaps unrequitted love of another dear friend, has been poisoned. We know not what with, only that she is very weak and ill.”

Bertuccio started, eyes wide behind glasses and a shudder in his stomach. Poison was never a pretty end, ever so it seemed to fit wicked men, for an innocent? Nay.

“I may perhaps have something for you, if you could give me another moment.” And inside he stepped, to once again interrupt his employer and cringed at the thought of doing so, when Gankutsuou’s wishes ran so against entertaining de Morcerf today. 

* * * * *

Deep beneath the suface drama, two figures sprawled beneath the great eye of a mechanical sun, spread in the plush grass carpeting artifical islands amid gently swirling water. Between them sat a bottle of fine Cabernet and a box of most delicate dark chocolates - brought straight from Germany, or so Alucard claimed. It was quite astounding; the feats such a creature could accomplish, and while most of their brief few hours had passed in silence, other moments were filled with the casual talk of two beings who share the explicit situation of finding themselves the only of their sort amid a sea of mortality. 

Crystal goblets were filled a quarter way, the deep burgundy wine swirled and perfumed the air with it’s own subtle fragrance, which the Count swirled gracefully beneath his nose. He seemed to bask for a moment in the finely aged wine, before that gaze opened languidly on his partner who had set about unwrapping another of those dainty, deliciously potent chocolates.

“I feel as though, in our paradise, we are missing but the Golden Apple to top our rapture.”

Alucard chuckled as he pressed the dainty sweet against suddenly pursued lips, frowned mockingly at the decisive innocence smoothing Gankutsuou’s brow.

“Perhaps your servant Ali would have an agreeable recommendation for us? After all, we dine in spirit of luxury, as Sultans invading the Garden of Eden.”

Gankutsuou smiled and summoned Ali, with but a few words the other was off, returning with a plattr of large, beatifully ripened figs, and a touch of mint. Alucard seemed intrigued by this combination and the Count sighed as he plucked one of the fruits from the tray, nodding to Ali who again seemed to vanish into the zephyr. Turning to his vampire, Gankutsuou sat forward, rolling the plump fig between thumb and index with a sparkling smile.

“You look as a man who has never had the unadultered pleasure of eating good figs. I tell you, it is a true decadence - a fruit like no other, and it surprises me not Antiquity held them in such reverence as even silk.” 

Alucard returned the Count’s smile, grin for grin and rolled from side to elbow with arching brows.

“I admit I haven ot had the pleasure of tasting such a thing, although I presume you shan’t allow my ignorance to live a moment longer.”

“Indeed you would be correct.” Gankutsuou replied with a most haughty disdain for Alucard’s sorely underdeveloped palette.

With a quck lunge, Alucard had the fig snared between razor teeth, body pushing forward even as Gankutsuou released his hold upon the fruit. The Count’s own lips parted when the textured skin was pressed against them, a kiss mussed by the woody taste of fig and soft juices smearing like lip stain across their lips. Over they rolled, until wine and chocolates and fruits were forgotten in favor of melding mouths and dancing tongues. Eyes were closed, and soft sighs of pleasure filled this stolen slip of Heaven with more life than all the clockwork chirps and crickets and chimes together. 

Blue fingers wove into ebony, tugging and scraping at scalp and neck and shoulder. Vampiric fangs scraped against plush lips, tongue moving with serpentine agility in hint of risque intimacies.

They parted, eyes low and burning as lamplight, bodies close and pressed and wound high on a bottle and a half of wine, the decadence of rich, pure chocolates and the heady aphrodisiac of their shared fig. 

A chime shattered the illusion and Gankutsuou flared high and livid, unblinking eyes glaring from blue skin at the far off ceiling of his haven. Bertuccio’s voice broke over the mic, crackled from he distance - and informed him of the presence of Albert de Morcerf. No. Not today, not when he felt aboslutely drunk on hedonism. It was a brief interruption, but an interruption nontheless and the Count was ready to quit of their embrace when Alucard again pressed close with a tut.

“No mind to the commoners, sweet Count, let us continue as if we were gods bestowing our vague attentions to supplicating mortals.”

Gankutsuou laughed, arms wrapping about the vampire’s elegant neck as they both sat up, face to face. Lips had only brushed with the barest of kisses when the chime rang again and a snarl tore free of the Count’s throat, leaving Alucard, as well, with more ill-humor than typically displayed.

Gankutsuou flared in vivid tones of agitation against the Count’s brow, the voice that answered to Bertuccio flat and icy cold, giving the Corsican pause before he stuttered onward. It was a speedy summary of Albert’s halting tale, one that smoothed the tension from the Count’s brow, set a pensive gleam into odd-colored eyes. A memory surfaced, the flash of a blonde witch in guise of a lady, the glimmer of greed and success in eyes that feigned innocence with the cunning of a Plover bird, plucking it’s meal from the waiting mouth of a croc. In a moment he was directing Bertuccio, a cure he well knew for a poison he himself had developed.

Was it not for this purpose? To watch turmoil spread through the house of one who had wronged a part of himself? 

Yet, recollection of a young man pledging his life upon his belief in unadultered love, flashed across minds eye. The son of a man who had ever been good to the man known as Edmond Dantes, even when all hope was lost.

Silence lingered, the moment of candor washed away by a flood of consideration, re-evaluation. Why should he deign, nay care, to help such a one? The fruit of evil, which surely must be squashed, yet he had spared.

The heart seemed not so cold and desolate a thing as he had thought, and even that small seed of humanity need be stomped out. Yes, even such aloof interventions could not be allowed to linger, for he must be as dead inside as the old man whose dying gasps were for Edmond Dantes to take all he knew, all he had - and do well by it. 

“Thinking so hard on any one thing can’t be good, I believe the grass may catch fire from such a look alone.”

Whispered a voice, so very near and which the Count hadn’t even noticed until that moment. He might have jerked, were he a creature given to such thoughtless reaction. He instead, leaned back against the vampire’s firm shoulder with a sigh of malcontent. 

“Such thoughts are to be expected, when one begins to question their own actions.”

A chin pressed against his shoulder, he could hear the rumble of a ‘hm’ in Alucard’s chest, relaxed further back against the other when silence was allowed to linger in place of empty entreaties. It was with the mildest surprise that Gankutsuou accepted Alucard was going to allow the subject to drop, to not press for more details than were offered. It left a flutter in stomach that was wholly ridiculous yet ignored in favor of pressing against the vampire with an affected groan, shoving until they both rolled back.

Eyes were closed, and one hand flciked back to tap against Alucard’s chest.

“I believe, were were interrupted in the midst of something much more pleasurable than the woes of others. Our wine should still be chill, would you be ever so kind as to hand me the goblet.”

Alucard made a noise of amusement, shouldered the Count from his chest with his own mock-sigh and grabbed for the glasses, bowing head and offering the crystal goblet as if it were the Golden Fleece.

“As his Excellency wishes.”

The crooked smirk and glimmer in infernal eyes undermined the smooth, obsequious tone, but the Count seemed to pay it no mind as he haughtily accepted the glass, before reclining again in an almost-sprawl.

“Perhaps now there can be peace, and silence to enjoy without the follies of others being laid at our feet.”

It was an empt musing, but one that was hoped for quite sincerely and Alucard chuckled his agreement, toasting this wish for a tranquil evening.


	14. Act XIV: Under the Moonlight

Breath eased, but Valentine was far from safe - still, she was alive, and that was more than could be said for the poor butler. Maximillian hadn’t left her side since carrying her to bed, his hulking frame seeming to shrink in upon itself in the sheer relief that his love yet lived. From the doorway, Bertuccio watched on, Franz at his side, arms crossed and keen eyes pensive. Albert was, passed out in the car set toe bear them back to the Morcerf residence, after his run there wasn’t much left in the teen to keep him going once he learned Valentine would live.

“I wonder, how you came to know just how to cure what was sure to be a fatal poisoning?” The dark-skinned man tensed and Franz gestured to placate him. “Nay, I mean only that if such a thing could happen once, surely it could happen again? I would hate to be so capable of gaining a knowledge that could save a dear friend’s life, and not learning it from sheer arrogance that such a thing could never happen again.” 

At length the Crosican turned to face Franz, lips pulled into the barest of frowns. “I worked alongside a doctor at a point in my life, from him I learned a great many things. Even medicines can be poisons, Monsieur d’Epinay. I took his words to heart, and learned all I could of this two-headed snake. That is all.”

Franz studied himstill, but Bertuccio remained impassive, stone to that to perceptive gaze.

“So you are intimately acquainted with poisons, Monsieur?”

Bertuccio seemed to start, brows arching high upon his bald head and signled in the negative.

“Nay, merely that I know them inasmuch as I can discern a poison from the symptoms, and so provide an antidote.”

Franze looked upon him dubiously, for the statement itself seemed to contradicted Bertuccio’s refusal. After a time he shrugged, allowed the matter to drop but filed away the conversation, and the bodyguard’s reactions. It was just one more secret to stack atop the many surrounding the Count of Monte Cristo; but Franz was quite determined to unravel this mystery, before it landed he and his friends in ominous circumstances.

* * * * *

The wine was gone and the chocolates long since eaten, the figs shared between kisses and chaste caresses. The sun was long since set, paving way for a luminous moon, nearly full in the cloudless night. It lit Paris in ethereal, silvery light, paving way fo romantic trysts and clandestine affairs. A perfect evening observed from a large, opened window on the top floor of 30 Champs-Elysees. A summer breeze tugged at translucent, white linen curtains, waltzing across the darkened bedroom with all the whimsy of a dream. 

The Count leaned marginally out of the window, eyes closing against the tantalizing kiss of wind, the smell of roses exploded into bloom and sending up a haze of delectable perfume. At his side, reclined against the wall of the window-seat, was Alucard. The vampire’s skin glowed luminously in the moonlight, hair seeming even darker by contrast, and ruby eyes glimmering with a preternatural energy unique to vampires in night’s embrace.

He was more beautiful and striking than, perhaps, Gankutsuou had yet to see him, with cheeks high flushed from feeding before slipping back in through the window and lips red as blood. A spike of heat turned stomach, and the Count looked away, observing the distant silhouette of the Eifel Tower with forced attention; though it was hard not to look, not to observe such splendor; hard to ignore the bitter tang of jealousy that gripped with all it’s irrational strength, at the idea of Alucard sinking fangs into another to feed of their life.

“It is a beautiful night, is it not? I wonder if even the Nightingale would grace such a perfectly aesthetic evening with song.”

Gankutsuou sat back, head canting thoughtfully.

“It would complete the picturesque perfection, wouldn’t it?” Eyes drifted back to the vampire, wondering at the sudden broach of subject. “Surely you have admired it most splendidly on your hunt, Monsieur Dracul?”

Those eyes sparked and Gankutsuou wondered if perhaps Alucard hadn’t read more in his tone than he intended. The vampire smiled, the reason left to enigm as he leaned forward, brushing a thumb against plump lips.

“I had a most splendid view of a city bathed in moonlight, of paramores dashing for dark corners or strolling down cobbled street. Nay, it was a most enjoyable stroll, however, I find myself quite longing for the evening air, for the moonlight on my skin. For a rendezevous as only Paris is famous for. Do you not feel it singing in your blood, sweet Count? The night calls to us, and we would be remiss not to answer such sweet summons.”

Gankutsuou’s smile was soft, eyes lit with mirth.

“Monsieur! I do believe we must rename you in the term of ‘silver tongued’, for you are making of yourself quite the poet this evening.”

Alucard flashed fang in his returning grin.

“Perhaps, but I could not be left to foolery when in the presence of one so eloquent and well-spoken.”

Fingers brushed at fringe, twirled in those curls which ever seemed to draw his focus. The Count leaned forward, until noses nearly brushed and wors could be spoken in but a whisper.

“Indeed, I would find myself most disappointing were you as plain spoken as a fisherman. As it is, you paint such a marvelous picture of your evening, I see not how I could deny you the company of another stroll.” Lips brushed cheek in a too-brief peck, and the Count was standing, smile all charisma and palms opening to his partner. “Shall I escort Monsieur through the divine spectacles of Paris? Shall we galavant through gardens locked to all but their proprietors?” He turned, midnight curls dancing and mood almost shockingly improved. “Shall we partake of the mischief of our natures under the moon’s sweet blessing?”

The side-long glance thrown over one shoulder sparked a violent heat in Alucard’s blood, from the purred innuendo of his questions, to the sinful temptation in those odd eyes. The vampire, intending to seduce, found himself thus ensared, and grinned all the more broadly as he trailed after the retreating Count.

“And you proclaim my moment of prose to be so graceful an achievement when I am thus entranced by a mere few questions. I dare say, my sweet Count, you are a most divine temptation.”

Gankutsuou couldn’t help the twitch of surprise when a too-casual hand caressed, with utmost appreciation and due speed, the curve of his backside, found step faltering in face of such groping.

“Monsieur, perhaps I should have held my tongue.” Gankutsuou mused, gathering a light coat over his arm and gesturing Alucard through the front door of his home. “I seem to have roused an incubus, where I thought my company decidedly more carnivorous.”

Alucard grinned roguishly, “Perhaps it is but such excellent company, the tease of such a treat that has tempted such a creature.” He took the Count’s arm and together the two meandered down the street, Alucard following Gankutsuou’s lead despite neither stepping in front or behind. “Alas, ensnared as I am by your wiles, sweet Count, I must question our destination. Curiosity is ever a nuisance to romance.”

“Well, Monsieur,” began the Count with another side-long look. “we are to tour a most beautiful park, which so happens to be so near my home. The Parc Monceau. Come, let us walk amongst the hidden splendor of Paris, for it must be admitted it is a grand shock such antiquated a place has been preserved when all else has been sacrificed to the machine.” 

* * * * * 

Running and running, one turn after another, shoes long-since lost, ball gown dirtied and tattered from snagging on stone and bush and metal. Fear. Fear as she’d never known before, that stole word and voice and reason - and urged only one thing to the fore of thoughts. Run. Run as fast as she could, run until she could move no more, because there was no fighting what pursued her, no trickery that could deceive those hell-fire eyes snuffling nose, the hissing intake of breath and glimmer of fang.

No. She could only run, and hope and pray - and round another corner, so very close now to the old Cathedral, so close she wept fresh tears of salvation, for surely Providence had given her life…

And with a shriek that pierced the night like the shrill cry of a Peregrin falcon before a breath-taking plunge, death was upon her, dragging her down and down with hands like ice and breath that stunk of gore.

* * * * *

The Parc Monceau was a truly individual sight, a last stand of Paris’ antiquity within the modernized cloister of the city. Metal and stone gave way to lush greenery meticulously kept, exotic trees almost gone from the Earth and flowers whose blooms seemed to have harmoniously exploded into perfume and color for the season. They strolled down avenues named by men long dead, lit only by antiquated lamps and the moon’s illumination.

They came at last, past roman pillars encircling a pond, round hedges and softly swaying hydrangeas in deep violet and pale pink and whimsical blue. They crossed a bridge, arched with Baroque embellishment over the pond and onto the secluded little island set at it’s center. An ancient willow bowed wide and broad and secretive over the grassy island, curtains of green grazing against the mirror surface of the water, rustling softly in the breeze.

Beneath this their walk came to a halt, the silence that was only occasionally broken fell again, and both visitors seemed lost in thought, though not ignorant to the other lingering still near enough for fingertips to brush.

Fireflies flickered like starlight across the pond, the flutter and cluck of swans settling in the late evening enchanted the park with a feeling of contenment. It was all observed, noted, and cast away from thoughts.

“This is quite the evening for a stroll, quite the location for a rendezvous.” Alucard chuckled, arms crossing behind his back at the side-long look Gankutsuou landed on him.

“Indeed, but I recall a most impetuous vampire insisting upon such a scandalous affair. Imagine, two such personages as ourselves, if we were to be seen stalking the streets arm in arm under such romantic moonlight.”

Irony flavored tones with stark humor and Alucard yet again grinned.

“Why, I thought perhaps a week of not being the talk of Paris deserved another go with the press. Just imagine the stories they would tell, with only two interactions before their sight. Imagine the reception, the presence we would pose at their self-serving parties.”

The Count smiled, a quirk of lips that commiserated with the disgust in Alucard’s voice.

“For one once named Count, you seem to have a singular disdain for the aristocracy.”

Alucard appeared thoughtful, but eyes were grim glimmers of ruby when he turned to Gankutsuou, they lit the soft darkness with their glow, like coals set into ivory. Gloved fingers caressed one blue cheek, holding that gaze with the same consideration.

“Count Dracul, Vlad the Impaler, Vlad Tsepes… a Count of death and destruction. A wrathful shadow looming over the provinces he governed. A man without soul nor heart to spare for the soft feelings and fragile dispositions of humanity.” Lips curled in a grin as sinister as a tempting devil. “I sat atop a throne built from the bones of my victims, their silhouettes cast shadows like the tallest forest where their corpses rotted atop posts. Their anguished cries were my symphony, eulogy and opera for the horrid sins they tarnished their souls with. How quickly their lives fled them, how lush the flowers grew where their blood spilled like water.” 

Gankutsuou seemed frozen, breath a hushed whisper in lungs even as body leaned forward, enthralled by the animated tale and ghastly expression twisting his partner’s visage. Truly, Alucard looked to be the demon of stories long since left to dust and decay amid libraries few cared to peruse in such modern times. They peoples of Paris were gay in their vanity, and had little use for the superstitions of the primative world beyond their walls. 

“A Lord of Death, a hand for your own justice - as impious as my own. T’would seem even our very dispositions have found kindred.”

Alucard chuckled at the Count’s expression, perhaps even his words, and the blackness looming like stormclouds in his gaze seemed to recede.

“Yes, a Lord of Death I was… and a fool. A weak, pitiful fool. I see much of what I was in these vermin, it is only reasonable disgust would follow.”

Gankutsuou was considering as he gazed upon Alucard.

“Perhaps, but I cannot help but be thankful for the pitiful fool that you were, if it has brought you here now, at a time when I was most assured my solitude of existence in this world.” 

Alucard’s expression smoothed, it could even be said it softened, and longer fingers twirled in midnight curls, the smile curling lips indulgent.

“You should reconsider saying such things to me, sweet Count - they give a creature of sin such as I presumptions.”

Gankutsuou leaned nearer, and those fingers burrowed further into curls, his own smile was an edge of daring, eyes sparking almost mischeviously in the night.

“And what think such an incubus of one such as I? That of chastity and virtue? Certainly I would be most offended, Monsieur Dracul.” 

Alucard’s eyes closed, mere slivers of glimmering ruby left to see beneath the flare of black lashes. Noses brushed with their proximity, breath ghosting across lips.

“I feel that is a challenge, Monsieur Gankutsuou, of myself and my perception… are you truly aware what you tempt of me, or is this brash daring born of ignorance?”

Bi-colored eyes flared with ire and lips curled up around the glimmer of fangs.

“Shall I repeat myself, vampire? Shall I simplify my statement for one such self-proclaimed dog? Nay, I may have to, indeed, recant such a request if you continue to insult - “

Voice cut off in gasp, the bark of the willow tree bit into silken jacket, seemed to groan beneath the force that rocked branches and set curtain of leaves swaying. Lips brushed and crushed and long fingers curled about biceps with enough force to grind bone and Gankutsuou was left with stolen words, parting on an almost gutteral moan.

* * * * *

A bloated figure rolled drunkenly from beneath the stiff stone bench, a sleepy grumble as only the truly intoxicated could manage, groused from his throat and bottle-brush mustache shimmied beneath a bulbous nose. A red faced, shrouded Caderousse rolled up from his stupor, blinking blearily at what disturbed his so-peaceful slumber.

He found himself apparently alone beneath the gloomy old willow of Parc Monceau, until sharp movement caught unfocused eyes.

They widened the next moment at the sight he beheld, blood draining from rosey face and subby limbs already stumbling to drag him clear of this place - before his presence could be noted, and he was sure, terminated.

* * * * * 

Lips ravaged azure skin and fingers nearly tore at button and clasp, shoving fine textiles away in reach of lean muscle and marred skin, which, despite the fervor and heat of actions, remained cold as the ice it so resembled. Fang scraped, but did not piercing and fingers curled in ebony tresses, tugging and urging that mouth on in its wet pursuit.

Head dropped back, spiling curls away from a face twisted in pleasure, held with a tenseness that spoke of how foreign such raptures were. Gankutsuou shuddered, groaned when a liscentious tongue flicked at the endge of naval and fingers worked at the clasps of trousers, tugging and tugging and bearing more and more skin.

It was an after thought that gloves were gone and flesh met flesh, fingers curling about hips and slipping round to grab buttocks as Alucard stood suddenly, capturing swollen lips in a nother vicious kiss.

It wasn’t slow, wasn’t easy - it was searing, as violent as the two participants. It was a wonder there wasn’t blood to be shared between twirled tongues, between fang and force. Alucard pulled back and air filled lungs like water to arid land. Gankutsuou watched Alucard through glazed eyes, livid visage burning across brow seeming to waver in the moment’s pleasure.

The vampire grinned, his own eyes low and liquid with desire.

“My, sweet Count, you look quite dazed. Shall I stop?”

“Stop and I’ll tear out your throat.”

Alucard shuddered at the heated snarl, rough and gravely unlike the polished, eloquent tones he’d grown so accustomed to hearing. The vampire practically purred as he pressed himself heavily against the other, not missing the tremor and hitch of hips against his thigh as he peppered kisses along the sharp line of jaw.

“I wouldn’t dream of such an infraction, not when you look so delicious and debauched, my sweet Count.” 

Clawed fingers gripped blouse, tugged sharply, warningly before setting to work on buttons - digging for that ublemished exanse of ivory that lay hidden beneath.

“And you, Monsieur Dracul, are far too composed.”

Gankutsuou purred, and Alucard felt a thrill slip up spine as the shirt was shoved down arms and left to fall carelessly to the grass. The next moment he groaned as icy lips and mischevious tongue set to work from neck to shoulder to pectoral and nipple. He tugged at those curls, tangled hands within their midnight depths, drug Gankutsuou back up and away from his explorations until he could devour that mouth again; feast upon the little noises half buried in throat. 

Arms wrapped about slender waist and Alucard lifted, ignoring the noise of protest as he ducked forward, dropping Gankutsuou onto the plush grass creating a hammock between two protruding roots. Curls spilled along the silvery bark, dusted into half-lidded eyes in a wonderful disarray so uncommon to the well-kept Count. Alucard was upon him a moment later, swallowing protests in another searing kiss before working his way down and down. A path carved across azure skin in wet kisses and pinching nips that had nails digging into one of those roots, a grasp to ground spinning thoughts. The other arm was slung above head, clawing at the body of the willow, carving furrows into wood when the vampire paused to suck harshly at juncture of hip and thigh.

Fingers gripped the bottoms of thighs and Gankutsuou started with a twitch, eyes clearing, focusing on Alucard’s face with an almost hesitant scrutiny. The vampire paused in his minstrations, cheek laying atop one leg and lips curled in saccharine invitation. Muscles beneath his hands relaxed and Alucard dropped a kiss to cold skin, and another and another; until the body beneath him trembled and the hard flesh jutting from dark curls pulsed in need. Cunning tongue marked a path from base to tip, and Alucard drank in the beautiful sight his lover made arched so sharply up and hissing out a choked moan.

The torture continued almost sadistically, while fingers plucked a small vial of oil from trouser pocket. Gankutsuou was thoroughly distracted, drawn into exotic pleasures of the flesh heretofore avoided. Thighs spread and pressed close to Alucard’s head almost convulsively, as though body hadn’t the slightest notion how to deal with the overbearing pleasure. A final lick and mouth pulled away, gliding lips down inner thigh while a profusely oiled finger rubbed at tense, puckered flesh. A dark hunger burned in ruby eyes, greedy as a dragon for his gold at the chaste flesh offered him.

Fangs sank into tender flesh at the same moment finger pushed through twitching muscle and burrowed into a lukewarm core. Blood like Ambrosia of the gods slid across tongue, cool as the body it gave life - a potent aphrodesiac when a loud moan was muffled quickly behind a palm. Thighs shuddered and Alucard drank, finger working inside taunt muscle before drawing away, doused in oil and worked in with a second finger.

Gankutsuou gasped, sensations colliding when Alucard slowed in his drinking, laved tongue over puncture wounds and watched with eyes like liquid, as realization dawned, bringing eyes wide and a hit to breath, a shudder to whipcord body. 

Fingers scissored open and Gankutsuou arched, lips peeling back from bared fangs in an almost silent keening that rose the hairs at Alucard’s nape. In, deeper, working tense muscle and drinking in the sight of such a stoic creature unraveling; a vision of reaction told in the barest twitch of muscle and shudder of limps, the twist of face - so minute it perhaps could have been missed.

Words swallowed down and fangs sliced into the opposite thigh, drinking as he worked the Count open, fingers slipping deeper until with a sharp curl and thrust, his lover nearly bowed upward from the ground, a laborous hiss through teeth and the scent of iron that told the vampire Gankutsuou had bit himself to stifle a sure-to-be rousing sound. Fingertips milked that sensitive spot with sadistic relish, pushing and pushing as life slipped across tongue, more decadent than ever - and wih a final noise like a whimper pleasure boiled over, spilling a mess across blue skin and mussed blouse. A final kiss to freshly healed wounds, and Alucard was looming up and over, grinning down at he incoherent figure sprawled in wonderfully wanton ease.

He licked lips still stained with blood and brushed an almost chaste kiss against smoothed brow.


	15. Act XV: Reflection

He lay on silk damask sheets, duvet tossed haphazardly aside, cream, gold emellished walls lit by soft candlelight. Plush pillows supported head, and midnight curls tumbled like dark clouds across the pale rose fabrics. He lay for once, atop the softness of a bed, limbs sprawled and nude skin relishing such luxury. Tension was a long forgotten nightmare after such bone-melting pleasure, and odd eyes lifted lethargically from repose to take in the lean, perfectly nude figure approaching from one side.

They had no fear of needing to touch, were either averse to such an indulgence, for the bed was large enough for three other men their size and draped extravagently with heavy velvet curtains. Dragons chased unicorns across dark mahogany headboard and into one hidden compartmet Alucard stashed the little vial of oil.

They were tucked within the upper floors of Champs-Elysees, free of the Fantasia tucked beneath, with windows tossed wide and a soft fire crackling against the far wall, casting long shadows and filling the pre-dawn chill with the scent of smoke.

It was, perhaps, the first time in a long time the Count had felt such… contentment. The warm glow of satisfaction filling belly as food had ceased to do twenty-five years ago, and affection melting ice formed almost as long. An affection that should be dangerous, for the supposed fear Gankutsuou held to emotion… and yet, so singular had they become, it seemed as nothing more than a novelty; a precious jewel to be tucked away and guarded viciously.

Alucard stretched out languidly beside him, arms tossed above his head and mess of ebony spilling out around them; Gankutsuou rose on one arm, and shifting just the barest amount until cheek rested on his lover’s chest, and body fell bonelessly against the bed.

“You know, I rather think incubus is a far more suitable name than vampire.”

A smirk pulled at the vampire’s lips, “Oh, and why would that be, Monsieur?” 

A yellow eye opened, watching Alucard balefully - as though the question was the most ridiculous question Gankutusou had ever heard. He stretched slowly, muscles unwinding and melting against the vampire.

“I would think that is obvious, Monsieur.”

Alucard chuckled, tugged at curls, body curling at an impossible angle to brush lips against brow, the Count hummed contentedly, eyes already flutering closed - though a thought furrowed smooth expression and Alucard massaged his thumb against wrinkled skin.

“Why such a face? Sleep, sweet Count.”

“How can you expect me to rest, when after the entirety of our leisure, I’ve only now realized how we’ve neglected your pleasure?”

“Do not worry for that, dear Count, sleep. Tomorrow, perhaps I can think of a suitable repayment.”

The purring tone elicited a shudder, but brow smoothed and Gankutsuou at last surrender to oft forotten slumber.

* * * * *

The bloated little scrub twirled his bowler hat between trembling hands, eyes darting as he stared almost in fear at the reporter across form him. He shouldn’t say anything, he knew he shouldn’t. If he did, certainly they would find out and then he would truly be a dead man; but what would such a story sell for? All he could imagine, with a salivating mouth, was the rancs that would roll so easily into his fingers .Of! If he had but a single photograph…

Beauchamp exhaled a plume of smoke. “So what? You were running from Parc Monceau in quite a fearful fashion, and right into me. You mention you’ve something extraordinary to tell, and now you hesitate? Jeeze, if it’s money, I can pay you… if, of course, the story is worth it. If not, well, you’ve this meal, late though it may be, at the very least.”

Caderousse considered, beady eyes heavy with the glaze of liquor and greed, before he set aside his cap and nodded, resolute.

* * * * *

Dawn crested the horizon, and police stood, pale faced and trembling around the marked scene. So close to the upper tiers of society, the haunts only those of noble blood or deep pockets ventured down. To think that such a thing could happen here… it was unspeakable, the garrish mess of this crime.

Even the forensic specialist who claimed he hadn’t the slightest clue who could commit such atrocities, but that she was sure they weren’t human. Although, that left a rather vast array of options - and rumors would inevitably begin to churn.

Already the press was here, even Beauchamp, looking a bit more pensive than usual, and perhaps a bit paler than his olive complexion normally permitted. The sight was a disgusting one, the girl, what little was left of her, was splattered from wall to wall in the rather broad alley tucked between a currently closed tailor and jeweler. Blood stained white streets, painted the walls in splatters, entrails ran up and down the length of the small sreet, bonnes broken, limbs severed, and the head left sitting at the entrance, an expression of terror still twisting that young, handsome vissage.

It would be a long day.

* * * * * 

“Your Excellency, we have a missive from…”

Bertuccio froze, blinking behind sunglasses at the empty cavern of a room which served as his Master’s normal haunt when not engaged in vengeance. An uneasiness settled in his stomach, for the count was rather a creature of habit when it came to his “domestic” pre-occupations.

In a moment Bertuccio was gone from the room, Baptistine and Ali were alerted - who neither had seen nor knew where the Count was. Ali, through a series of rather complex gestures, alluded to havng last seen his Excellency in the garden - but no longer. Haidee came to the knowledge next, and the Princess was distraught. They all began combing over the golden palace, the outlying scenery - but to no avail.

It was Haidee who wondered if perhaps, the Count were not spending time in the upper building, which led to a wondering silence and eventually, the decision to go check. After all, he was most obviously not here, what had they to loose by looking?

* * * * * 

Door after door was opened, displaying untouched rooms decorated beautifully. It wasn’t until they reached the fourth floor that fruit was borne of their search. Haidee, bless her soul, was the one to try the door of the master suite on the top floor - finding the smell of lingering woodsmoke where there should be none, and a tray of half-eaten foodstuffs set atop a table. The far door, that led from sitting room to bedroom, was cracked the minutest amount and the small party approached on tiptoe.

They had more sense and self-preservation than to slam the door open, and it was with baited breath that they nudged it even the barest sliver more, to peer within.

The moist, fresh scent of early morning clung to the carpets, drapes, furniture and bed, whose protective curtains were drawn far and wide, leaving the bed they guarded so staunchly free to perusal.

Indeed, what a sight met their eyes. 

Soft breathing touched the room, the soft noise covered by four sharply indrawn breaths at the door. All were stunned silent, frozen to place like statues as they stared, increduous, disbelieving, at the duo curled amid damask sheets. The duvet was kicked aside, sheer linen and silk the only protection bare skin had from eyes; a scene that was both intimate and shocking - something none of them felt they should have seen.

Indeed, finding their normally stern and sleepless master stretched atop the braod, ivory chest of the visiting Brit they knew to be to be named Alucard, curls a messy mass that spilled across azure skin and rose colored pillows. It mingled so well with the contrast of ivory and ebony tresses that fanned like a black river across the large bed.

They stared, incapable of movement or coherent thought, enraptured by their witness of such a scene - until one ruby eye cracked open, burning like a coal even from such a distance, and quickly as they came, the group left, no small amount of fear struck through mortal flesh by the languid warning of that single eye.


	16. Act XVI: Luxury

Baptistine set the tea service atop emblished mahogany, next to the several dishes bearing simple foods for a Continental Breakfast - muffins, buns, breads, fruits, spreads, yogurt, and porridge. Each of the four served themselves in a contemplative silence, taking the first bites of repast without truly tasting.

Three cups of tea in, Ali set down his cup primly and looked about his three companions. Baptistine stared off, as though still dazed, his gaze not quite focused. Bertuccio watched his tea contemplatively and Haidee was an odd mixture of relief and incredible sorrow. It was she who broke the silence.

“I wonder what this means, for what the Count has planned.”

Baptistine snapped to attention at the Princess’ soft voice, his brow furrowing and eyes darking to brood.

“I think, perhaps, this is a good thing.”

They all looked at Bertuccio, who had been with the Count longer than any of them - who knew more secrets, understood their Master’s thoughts in a way they had not quite perfected.

“Bertuccio, what do you mean?” Questioned Haidee, though her tone said she already had an idea.

Bertuccio’s smile was whimsical.

“Among us all, no matter how attached or how we admire Gankutsuou… he is always separating himself, bricking a never-ending wall to stand between himself and us. He has had nothing but revenge to cling to in life, to drive him forward… yet this, it gives me hope.”

Baptistine was shaking his head, shoulders slumped in sorrow.

“It doesn’t matter, he made a contract… and Gankutsuou will eventually become the monster of legend - and the man we know as Count, Boss, Master, Friend, and savior will be gone, Bertuccio.”

Haidee set her cup down harshly, eyes narrowed and lips pursed as only a true noble born could accomplish - an expression that demanded immediate attention, that she who was about to speak was not slave or girl, but future Queen - and she was most displeased. 

“Have none of you paid attention to our beloved Count? Have none of you noticed how thin the line is between what was human and what is Gankutsuou?”

“Of course we’ve noticed! That’s why I say it’s hopeless!” Baptistine thundered.

Haidee smiled, almost pitying.

“Then you are not looking properly. They are becoming one… neither devouring the other… have you not noticed, how common it is for that visage to peer at us, yet never in mischief or malice? Have you not noticed how the Count speaks as ‘we’ and ‘us’? How their ideals and their goals and perhaps the very essence of who they are, are kindred, are one?”

Silence, awestruck and perhaps a little fearful, for inhuman entities acting upon their nature is a force - but those tempered by humanity are fearsome.

The silence lingered as all contemplated and broke their fast, all wondering what this meant for their future and for their beloved Count’s.

* * * * * 

Waking wa a surreal experience, leaving the blackness of Morpheus’ realm, the half forgotten flickers of images, feeling the soft press of bed, the soft hum of breathing, and the comfort of skin and another body and an arm about his waist. Things he couldn’t remember experiencing, even in that lost life of Edmond Dantes; beyond the platonic arms of a loving parent. 

Muscles ached stiffly from repose so long denied, and Gankutusou stretched long and slow as a feline rising from a midday nap, back arched and shoulders popped, spine seeming to creak and groan with the effort of mobility. The arm at his waist tightened reflexively, and the Count shuddered at the feel of skin at his shoulders, the puff of breath against his ear, the firmness of the bicep beneath his cheek - and the hardness pressed so snugly against him. A little tremble of sleepy arousal had lips dragging across forearm, face turning to nuzzle cool skin and breathe in the scent that seemed to be invading every thread of linen and silk beneath them.

It was a tranquility that was almost terrifying in it’s pervasiveness; that first dreadful drop of water to a parched soul long resigned to never again tasting such nourishment. Still Gankutsuou hesitated to break it, stretching as he was merely to relax back into that comfort, into the press of hard flesh against backside and shudder against his own arousal.

A moment later and bi-colored eyes opened, glimmering in the early morning light and mischief curled lips in an almost frightful expression.

It was with great care that the Count shifted and moved, the minutest shuffle of muscle like liquid flesh as he slithered down between Alucard’s hold, breath barely a whisper in lungs and attention riveted to not waking the other. No, not yet.

Flesh bumped chin and a thrill surged through belly, warming it with a carnal hunger, urging a swallow before the last shuffle was made. He was brought eye level with the almost too-perfect flesh there, a velvety softness at odds with the hard muscle which had so snuggly made itself comfortable at the Count’s backside, and arched so subtly from a thatch of coarse, ebony curls. Lips were wetted, almost thoughtless as the task assigned to himself dawned in all it’s reality upon the Count.

How curious an experiment this would prove, to one never having engaged in such sins.

Still, lips parted, admitting a curious tongue to taste of that flesh which smelt deep and musky, but not unpleasantly. Another primal shudder rocked through him, the salt of skin and tang of arousal heady on tongue, like a singular aphrodesiac - and the little groan of surprising pleasure was swallowed with all the steel self-control which the counted managed the whole of his person. 

Lips skimmed soft flesh, teasing and soft, the tip of tongue barely touching - another line, exploring and testing until the curve of head and a faint, tangy moisture pervaded senses. Oh! A strange taste, not unpleasant, but drew moisture to mouth and urged another swallow as hesitant fingers curled at the base of hardness.

The soft groan of appreciation nearly jolted the Count from his focused musings, drew eyes to that still-slumbering face and then back to the beading moisture at the crown of his… treat. Again lips were moistened, and with all the brashness of ineptitude, Gankutsuou plunged the tempting flesh into his mouth, too far and too fast - throat closing around a gag that was almost a cough and sent moisture springing to squinted eyes - ripped a growling rumble from the vampire, whose fingers curled viciously in silk sheets.

Despite the sting, lips curled upwards in a triumphant smirk around the mouthful which was now more comfortably situated atop tongue - and Gankutsuou set to work, stumbling at first on a motion never really wittnessed, yet seemed the only course of action. Evening out as quick mind and force of will adapted to the idea, to the tastes, to the sensations and weight filling mouth - and the hungry ache in stomach to undo Alucard as he had been so pleasurably taken dissembled. 

* * * * *

A most pleasurable dream eclisped senses, a most impossible scenario working it’s way through mind with tantalizing ease. An impossible dream, which no less brought forth croons and sighs of appreciation, nay, near worship for the candid favors bestowed most intimately upon his person. Delicious, carnal rapture that spiked sharply with an unmistakeable heat and hunger that begged eyes to open, and yet still that pleasure continued.

It rolled across skin, clumsy yet intent - purposeful in that singular way which Alucard had come to associate with only one being. It wasn’t until the next heartbeat that reality truly set in and ruby eyes widened at the sight which presented itself at his hips.

Midnight curls tumbled over ivory flesh, damask sheets, and nearly covered the intent expression which had settled itself across that familiar face. Brow was furrowed in concentration, lips swollen around the hard flesh they worked with an almost gracelessness, if it were possible for anything Gankutsuou did to be inelegant. A groan erupted before he could think to stop it, fingers wound in those wonderul curls and ruby eyes blazed their lusty approval when the Count’s gaze rose to meet his own. The satisfaction swimming in that mismatched gaze was nearly enough to end Alucard then and there, but with the restrained learned through a hundreds of years of life, he clung to that edge, luxuriated in the pleasure of that apprentice mouth and rhythmically squeezing hand. 

With a tug of hair, firm but not punishing, Alucard guided that mouth back and away, to the crown of his hardness, where tongue swirled and lapped at the continual essence budding there. The vampire’s back arched, hips rolling up ever so gently to slide himself deeper in to that mouth, lips parting on a sensual sound Alucard was indifferent to restraining. Why should he withhold his pleasure? The very encouragement which sparked fire on those eyes and redoubled efforts to please.

Yes, it was a beautiful thing, Gankutsuou crouched between his thighs, his own hands buried in that luxurious hair, those lips so swollen, eyes glazed with lust and the sheen of spit and arousal glimmering on velvet flesh.

He caressed a cheek, flattened his palm to cup the back of skull and gently urged down, down - until throat spasmed in another gag and Alucard smiled indulgently. Thumb swiped the edge of one raw lip, eyes glimmering affectionately upon his lover.

“Relax, ma moitié, it shall prove easier to swallow. Open your throat, yes, as when you smoke chibouque.” 

How easily he slipped down that wonerful throat, soft and smooth as it flexed about his girth, struggling in that way all novices do to such a practices. Alucard smiled, a flash of fang and fingers curled again in Gankutsuou’s hair, nails scraping scalp appreciatevly as Alucard practically purred.

The Count pulled away, a breath drawn sharply through flared nostrils, pupils nearly eclipsing those eyes in a primal darkness as he swallowed Alucard down again and again - the suction vicious with every swallow, and press of tongue against throbbing vein.

Hands gripped hips, bruising in their strength, to hold down the roll and buck, a torment to repay those milking fingers of the evening past. Slow and then fast, and lukewarm heat and the soft scrape of teeth and eyes that never parted from his own - over and over until with a growl and jerk that shoved Gankutsuou down to groin, nearly suffocated the Count of breath, Alucard spilled across tongue and down throat.

Gankutsuou choked, fingers released their deathgrip of curls and he drew back with a sharp gasp and dazed expression, lips swollen and bruised and parted - glistening with the remains of Alucard’s pleasure. The vampire thought perhaps he would find ecstasy again merely from gazing upon his debauched lover - moved instead to drag that wonderful expression nearer, capture those lips which tasted so heavily of his own essence in a violently dominating kiss.

Gankutsuou shuddered and groaned, clawed fingers curling at Alucard’s biceps and hips hitching against the muscled plains of stomach with that thoughtless stumble of the desperate - until heat spilled across skin in a wonderful mess of fluid and tongues twined, heedless to the mess, basking in the afterglow of such erotic pleasure. 

Their ardor slowed, eased with the waning of that glowing contentment until, laying on side and facing each other, they were tempted once more to lovely slumber. It was a decision stolen from them by the tentative knock at the door.

“It is Bertuccio.”

Called the Corsican, voice muffled and tinged with the faintest hints of embarassment. Alucard grinned privately as his lover stood, tugging on a robe and dropping the curtains around the bed before summoning Bertuccio in with a word.

“Sir,” bowed the servant, hesitating only a moment at his Master’s unusual state of undress. “there is… interesting news this morning, of a strange calamity which seems to have touched Paris.”

Brows arched almost disinterestedly, as the Count took a seat. “Oh? What manner of atrocity has caused such a stir that you seek me out to inform?”

Bertuccio hesitated. “A most grisly murder, it would seem, Sir.”

The Count blinked slowly, his stare unbroken by the sharp jerk that shoved curtains away, admitting a barely dressed Alucard. The vampire frowned, eyes glimmering darkly upon Bertuccio, who started and flushed red despite his dark complexion. Gankutsuou seemed to notice none of this.

“What matter is this for my attention?” He said at length as Alucard also took a seat, watching Bertuccio intently. 

“It would seem the cirucmstances are… very unusual. They are saying it was no human which committed this crime, but a monster. They say wolf, vampire, demon - monsters of legend which most of Paris have thought left to the rest of the world or nothing beyond fiction.”

Alucard sat forward, elbows atop knees and silently cursing the trail of trouble which seemed to follow in the wake of Hellsing no matter where they traveled.

“Are there photos to be had? Perhaps the scene has not yet been cleared and they still study it?”

Bertuccio started at Alucard’s unexpected insertion, but took only a moment to answer. “I am uncertain. Such details are not generally published to avoid such situations becoming an event.”

Alucard nodded and rose, turning to Gankutsuou who watched him with passive intrigue.

“I shall take my leave of you then, though I will assuredly return.”

He bowed most elegantly and Bertuccio felt need to excuse himself in that moment - lest he intrude on a private affair. Had he not already walked in on an intimate scene, he might have fainted from sheer shock at the quirk of a soft smile which played about his Master’s lips.

Alucard brushed a kiss of parting to the back of Gankutsuou’s hand, to cheek and forehead, and finally lips. Brief and chaste before flight was made with all-due haste.


End file.
